Saving Lucifer
by sarahqq
Summary: Lucifer: Satan; fallen angel; exile from Heaven. Bella, with a dark past of her own, is resolved to salvage Edward from Hell. An adventure of secrets, lies, and sins awaits... Pity. She doesn't know what she's getting herself into. Canon AH
1. Her Hand

**The Last Minute Holiday Fun Times One Shot Contest  
****Title:** Saving Lucifer  
**Your Pen Name:** SarahYoungEun  
**Characters:** Bella Swan & Edward Masen (With minor bits of Esme Platt and Angela Weber; references to Carlisle Cullen, Charlie Swan, Renee Swan, and Elizabeth Masen)  
**Disclaimer:** Stephenie Meyer is the creator of these wonderful characters.  
**To see other entries in the contest please visit the C2 page:  
****www-dot-fanfiction-dot-net/community/The_Last_Minute_Holiday_Fun_Times_One_Shot_Contest/76705/**

* * *

**Title:** Saving Lucifer  
**Rating:** M (references to child abuse, foul language)  
**Pairing:** Bella & Edward  
**Category:** Romance/Angst  
**Disclaimer:** Stephenie Meyer is the creator of these wonderful characters.  
**Summary:** Edward Masen needs help. He's the fallen angel – the Satan – living in the dark shadow of his nefarious past. Bella doesn't have to be involved, but she knows she has to be the one. She has to show him that the evil is the frown of the good, and the good is the smile of the evil. She has to show him that beneath his indifferent mask, he actually yearned for an outstretched hand. She must save Lucifer before it's too late. Entry for "The Last Minute Holiday Fun Times One Shot Contest!" AH/ExB  
**Extra Information:** Mostly In Character; interlaced with Christianity; references to child abuse in later chapters

**Saving Lucifer  
****CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

December.

"Already," Bella Swan muttered into her red scarf.

The girl tugged on her ponytail until it was thrown down completely to cover half her face; she pocketed her hands back into her coat, shrugging her shoulders. The weather changed so abruptly over the last couple of weeks that it was absurd.

Her feet fluttered along the ice of the sidewalks, in a hurry to reach the school campus and arrive to her first class of the week.

She noticed the change of view in the streets, and honestly, she was uncertain if she should be as joyous as other pedestrians shuffling around her.

It was only nine o'clock in the morning of the first day of December, yet the blaring music of Christmas carols surrounded every step of her way. She could see the fancy decorations left and right, and the sparkling lights added to the mood of the jolly atmosphere.

Christmas seemed so far away when she had been too busy cooking turkey for Thanksgiving, and now only twenty four days were left to count. Christmas was definitely on its way.

She still remembered her childhood Christmas mornings – the very Christmastimes when both her father and mother were there to celebrate the day with her.

Every year, their celebrations were ordinary and conventional, but at the same time, incredibly special. Bella would open her presents under the Christmas tree with the ornaments she made at her grade school, her mother would announce that Santa Claus didn't forget to eat his chocolate chip cookies, and her father would sit next to her, excitedly waiting to see how his little girl would respond to the presents.

Bella Swan also remembered the Christmas day when she was fourteen years old.

Her mother's last breath was taken that day after a car crashed into her, and from that day on, her father looked like a man who had all the weight in the world on his shoulders. The rest of her life had been miserable, tedious, and silent.

Yes, silent.

Her father and she never had a real conversation anymore. They still loved for another, but with a piece of the circle missing, nothing was ever the same. The two shied away from anything related to Christmas, too. Christmas day was a horrible memory to summon, though neither her father nor she ever announced aloud.

Bella tried to shake off the thoughts of her past. She knew far too well that what she had gone through was not tragic in the slightest compared to so many other things other people in the world went through.

And this year, she was going to spend Christmas with her father, smiling and feasting just like her youthful days.

Just like those days.

* * *

"The First Noel, the Angels did say was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay. In fields where they lay keeping their sheep on a cold winter's night that was so deep. Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel, born is the King of Israel!"

The words blasted through the speakers of a CD store at such early time in the morning, and he hated it. His steps quickened until he was jogging, and from there, his jog sped up to a run.

It was pathetic to Edward Masen. Everything looked like it at the moment.

He would take a look at the gray sky, only to curse it because he once thought God was there to look over him.

He would take a look at a little boy and his mother chortle away with the thoughts of Christmas toy shopping, only to look away because the scene brought him heartache.

He would take a look at that big Christmas tree in the center of the shopping center square with glaring lights that could blind people, only to have moisture gathered in his eyes because it meant Christmas was near and the year was coming to an end. The year was coming to an end when he achieved nothing the past 365 days.

He would take a look at himself in the reflection of the window of a storefront, only to walk away swiftly with a grimace because he looked like a man of wrath.

Everywhere he glimpsed at, there was a reminder of his mother and his presence. Everywhere he stood, he was surer that God had given up on him.

Edward Masen was solitary in the darkness of his soul, and he had no idea what to do.

He didn't know why he came back to his hometown. His plan was something else, yet he came.

He knew he would get hurt in the end. He knew he would find this sentimental yet frustrated feeling chewing off his insides. So why did he come back?

"Why did I come back?" he whispered out loud, his warm breath fogging the cold air. His steps decelerated into a full cease, and when he glanced up, he couldn't help but begin laughing like an insane man.

He was a bit more surprised to see that he was standing right below the grand cathedral of the town. How was it possible that he walked all the way to his least favorite place without even noticing it?

"Edward Masen?"

There stood Mother Esme in front of the golden door of the cathedral, clearly shocked. The small wrinkles around her eyes were the marks of her good nature, her kind smiles, her concerns… The woman was as same as ever. The number of years was just that – a number. Time didn't change her temperament.

Edward's head snapped toward the source of the voice, and instantaneously, his breath caught in his throat. He cussed profusely and fluently before pirouetting on his feet, ready to flee.

"No, don't! Don't leave!"

Whether it was her desperate words, his unconsciousness, his guilt, or his curiosity, he didn't know, but he did stay as instructed. Silently, he stood with his back toward her, breathing in and out anxiously.

The woman appraised the man with amazement. He had grown from a sweet teenage boy to a handsome man. He had grown so much taller; his facial features were more masculine and mature, while his shoulders have become broader… Edward had turned into a strapping young man.

But there was one thing that didn't change. Even in that smallest minute he was looking at her, she never missed the ambiance of his eyes. The boy's eyes were the same dull green she last saw them – so different from his deceased mother, Elizabeth Masen, who had a sparkling pair of wisdom.

Ah, Edward once had the eyes that were even brighter than Elizabeth's…

"You're back!" Esme said tearfully, bringing one foot on the first step. She was, however, careful not to come too close to him. "Father Carlisle had been waiting for you all these years…"

Grinding his teeth and aiming his lethal glare at the ice below his feet, he tried to ignore the nausea in his stomach.

Mother Esme took quick assessment at his clothes too, and her facial wrinkles folded into a frown. "Oh, dear, you don't have a jacket… or gloves… or a muffler… You must be so cold… Hold on, boy, hold on…"

Then she retired back into the cathedral. Although it was considered indecent for a nun to run back and forth as she was, she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. God's gift – the boy – had come back, so how could she? The wide grin gracing her features never disappeared as she sneaked a coat from a container near the hall, whispering a quick prayer that she will repent later in the evening for putting her hands on the clothes that were supposed be sent out as gifts for the homeless this Christmas. Then she rushed to the small kitchen, grabbing a loaf of bread and a glass of warm milk.

Mother Esme was out of breath with strands of neatly stacked hair askew when she met the cold December air again.

And then she had to blink away the tears, for the boy was nowhere in sight.

* * *

Finally after what felt like crossing the deadly Sahara Desert, which actually was the streets of dazzling Christmas lights and holiday carols, Bella Swan had her feet on the silent college campus.

She had never felt so relieved to be so close to it. But it was short-lived, for that was when a flash of memorable burnt umber near the sidelines of skirting deciduous trees caught her eyes. Her faint solace transformed into one of nagging worry, shock, and curiosity.

First, she thought she was mistaken, but her eyes weren't playing tricks. Below the dim shade of a tree, something lay in impeccable stillness.

Carefully, she crossed the campus in many steps. At her destination, she discovered something surely was there. There lay a man with ears redder than her own blossoming cheeks, lips bluer than her own violet sweater, and skin paler than the ice he lay on top of.

Was he dead?

Bella had to control herself from gasping out loud as she checked vigil in all directions. But no, not another living soul was in sight; it was a bit too early. Moaning a little, her eyes danced back to the man before her.

She didn't even have the time to think; it was instinctual. For unknown reason, she had the urge to revive this man, and so she withdrew her self-knitted red scarf and got onto both knees.

Then she released a sigh of relief. His body had started trembling.

He wasn't dead.

"Are you okay?" Bella whispered, concerned. He seemed too under the weather to hear her voice.

Removing one of her gloves, she tentatively placed one hand on his forehead. She flinched at the iciness. What did he go through that led him here in absolute coldness?

She began to pull the scarf over his neck. "Can you hear me?"

Then things happened in a fraction of a second. She felt a whoosh of air escaping through her nose and mouth, and the girl was suddenly on the pile of rotten leaves, facing the gray sky. Something hard and wintry covered her neck, and she felt as if she would suffocate.

Then an intimidating green was all she could see.

She was so out of logic, and her senses were in overdrive, but if she knew one thing, it was the fact that the coldness around her throat was his hand. Bella lay still, paralyzed with fear.

"You have five seconds," he rasped out. "Who the hell are you, and what were you trying to do to me?"

The man was furious. But somehow, it appeared as if he was trying hard to make himself look dominant…

"I was –" She didn't know what to say. She was a captive under his burning gaze, and it wasn't because of its beauty, for his eyes were far from beautiful at the second. The green was unapproachable and terrifying, and she had a sudden rush of different arrays of emotions pervade her body. For one, she wanted to empathize and mourn for the suffering behind that wall and window of his soul. "I was just… trying to help…"

That seemed to provoke him more. "I – don't – need – help – from – _anyone_."

"I'm sorry," she breathed.

With a glare, he disengaged his limbs from hers, tore her scarf from his torso, and walked away.

* * *

She stared straight ahead at the chalkboard.

Fellow students were beginning to flood into the classroom, taking their respective seats as they prepared for the lecture.

Bella Swan's mind was still rebooting, so she barely took notice of her surroundings; her heart was stuttering from the encounter she had with the frightening man a few minutes ago. She wanted to extract herself from the crystal clear memory, but couldn't.

How could she?

"Bella," her classmate Angela greeted, taking a seat. "You're early today."

She came up for air from the pools of her daydreaming. Then she had to peer away from the chalkboard, for the green reminded of his eyes…

"Bella?"

She just nodded.

Her friend's slightly suspicious face swiveled into a scowl as her hand rose to Bella's hair. "What happened to you?" She plucked out the big pieces of fall leaves. "Your hair…"

The girl inhaled, and then ducked, beginning to remove all the bits of debris. "Are the leaves still there?" asked Bella to her friend who had one eyebrow arched.

"Why don't you just throw it into a bun for now?" Angela suggested. She gestured the brown-haired girl to come near, and the friend tied the messy tangles into a neater pile on top of her head. "It looks better."

"Thanks," breathed Bella, not meeting her friend's gaze.

"Bella, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered too quickly.

Angela rested her elbows on the table. "You can tell me, you know."

"It's really not that big of deal. I'm just overreacting," she said quietly.

There was a short pause before the other girl smiled reluctantly. "If you say so."

In matter of minutes, the professor walked in, and the lecture commenced. Bella worked hard to gather her thoughts together and concentrate; after all, winter break was only few weeks away. This meant that the semester would be over, and her first set of grades would be finalized.

But things weren't working out for her because no matter how hard she tried, her head was still up in the air. It also didn't help that several minutes into the lesson, the classroom door banged open. Most students were too busy listening to the professor's oration, but several turned to see a scruffy man walking in. One of these several people included Bella herself.

It was no surprise in universities that some students made habit of attending classes late, while some others left. Therefore again, this was no shock, and the professor paid no attention. His job was to teach, not to babysit the students.

However to Bella Swan, the little attention she had mustered for the class had evermore evaporated because of that student. It was no guess that her previous attempts for concentration were now completely lost.

Her interest and attention were restored and directed to none other than the boy himself as he moved to sit in one of the empty seats in the front.

Except, he was no student of University of Washington.

He was that boy who pummeled her to the ground when she had tried to help. He was the reason she had to tie up her hair.

He was the reason she was so off-color right now.

Angela nudged Bella. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing," Bella answered breathlessly.

Her friend didn't take that as an answer this time. Her eyes followed Bella's stare, and she too found her gaze drawn to that boy with crazy hair and just as crazy eyes. She frowned. "I never saw him before. Is he a transfer?"

Bella was still speechless.

Then Angela's eyes widened, moving her eyes up and down his form. "Did he just fly here from Australia or what? Look at what he's wearing! He must be freezing!"

The boy was clad in jeans that were so dirty that the true color of the pair could be the flashiest yellow, and a filthy shirt; his shoes looked as if they could get holes if he took another step. His clothes were far from those worn in Washington during December.

But Bella began to wonder. How was it possible that even when it was glaringly obvious that he was perpetually aloof and angry all the same, he was still beautiful in it?

Frightening but beautiful… Evil but luring, he was.

Like Lucifer, for instance, a fallen angel who turned into Satan.

Bella got chills down her spine at the comparison she made. It was uncanny that it made absolute sense.

That boy was just like Lucifer.

* * *

Bella was never impulsive. She was collected and logical nearly all the time.

But this time – just this time – she was going to let her unreasonable side take over.

She didn't even give herself time to think why, because if someone should ask her that, she'd blush and say she didn't know either.

It was well known to people around her that her loving and caring spirit was one of the most prominent parts of her essence. But it didn't make sense even to her own self that she'd care so much for someone who threatened her like that.

He was supposed to be dangerous. It was obvious. He didn't want help either; he made that very clear. Bella wasn't stupid; she knew.

But maybe it was because she knew that furious mask on his face. She saw it before. In fact, quite several years ago when she was a choleric high school student, she had that very face herself.

Maybe it was because he looked so lonely under that mask of a demon. She was lonely too, once upon a time.

Maybe it was the fact that she felt grief over him, although she knew nothing about the boy. She didn't even know his name, and she didn't even know what his voice sounded behind that gruff hum this morning. Yet, she was compelled.

Maybe it was because she wanted to believe that he wasn't always that angry and sinful. She wanted to believe that he could get better.

Maybe it was that she wanted to see a smile on his face. He had such lovely features… How would he look if he truly smiled?

Or… maybe it was because she was once a Lucifer too, and wanted to help.

Yes, she was once crestfallen. But for her, everything had become better when she met someone.

And now, just like the way that someone helped her out from the mayhem, she wanted to be the guide to lead him out of it too. That was why she was dashing through the blaring streets of Washington, taking her first step to save the fallen angel.

As she dodged through the nooks of the streets, her head suddenly cleared from its twirling thoughts, and finally, she realized one pivotal fact.

He wasn't intimidating, after all. He _seemed_ intimidating to her because she and he were so similar. It scared her because he was a remnant of her past.

Yes, that was it.

"Mother Esme?" Bella called as she ran through the gates.

A pair of legs traversed, and a nun's face appeared from the side door. Her serene grin was welcoming. "My Bella! You're here!"

The young woman, still breathing heavily, brushed a strand of her hair that got caught in the webs of her eyelashes; tears stung her eyes from the harsh winds that blew against her while she had been running.

Esme waited patiently.

And Bella Swan only had one thing to say. "I'm confused. I think I need help."

"I'm always here," the nun said, gently gesturing her to come further inside.

"Yes, that's exactly the point." Bella shook her head to herself in disbelief before smiling in melancholy. "I have to tell you something."

* * *

Bella met the nun during the winter break of her graduating senior year of high school. It was already three years ago. Mother Esme brought her out of the rebellious and immoral state she was in, and helped her repent and reborn into a new life.

Bella had a lot to work on it, still. Nevertheless, the progress she made was commendable. The loss of her mother had been the start of the havoc. Esme knew this, and so she became a mother for her herself.

The girl knew she could tell Esme everything.

And so she did – for the millionth time.

The girl didn't know why, but she felt herself fidget the entire time talking, assessing the blue eyes of her mother figure and friend with her own. She wanted to see if the sparkle and the wisdom in those eyes would shift; she wanted to see if she would disapprove.

Mother Esme didn't.

Her face broke into a peaceful smile. "Let me tell you something, Bella," she murmured, taking Bella's hands that were perched on the pew next to them. "Father Carlisle once told me… and I quote, 'Why don't people realize? Why don't they realize that sins make camouflage for a wounded soul? Why don't they realize that sins conceal the tears?'"

"I don't know what to say," answered Bella, feeling warm in the heart at those strongly strewn words.

"Sins aren't good," Esme stated in her sagely voice. "But that doesn't mean the person who have those sins can't repent. Sins have their reasons. It's just that most people don't realize it."

"But how does that matter with –"

"It matters with everything," Esme interrupted with the rare mischievous expression hidden behind that usual smile. _"'_Give, and it shall be given to you. For whatever measure you deal out to others, it will be dealt to you in return.'"

The girl's eyebrows made a thin line. "That's a Bible verse."

"If you're so adamant about helping this boy – and to be honest, I have no clue why or how you will – I still have a feeling this verse would make a good place to start."

"But… I just… I'm not trying to be a hero. All I'm trying to do is help him come to you, actually," Bella explained, eyes slowly peering up to the front of the cathedral where glorious and erudite designs were carved intricately. "I just want to be the bridge that will lead him to here. I want to _bring_ him here, and show him the power of this… belief. It helped me, and it can help him too." She suddenly chuckled. "I don't know how and why – especially the _why_ part – like you said. It just feels like my mission after he reacted to me like that. I'm sure he does need help; he just doesn't realize it… just like I didn't when you found me."

"Or, Bella, it could be that he doesn't want one."

Bella nodded. "Yes – or that."

* * *

That enigmatic boy didn't return to her first class – or the campus altogether – after that day, and Bella was beginning to realize that the chance was gone.

She began to feel afraid that she missed the right time.

Bella still prayed for the boy, though, when she visited the cathedral the next several Sundays. She still hugged the hope every night before going to sleep, yearning for another occurrence that she'd bump into him again.

Yet, he still never showed up.

However, as she prepared for the last day of school before winter break, she had the strange sensation that today might be the day she'd been waiting for. Perhaps, God would be with her, and he would lead her to the boy.

Or, lead the boy to her.

And so as she sat on her usual seat for her class, hands clutching her backpack tighter than what's normal, she stared at the door.

She chanted her prayer in her head like it was a spell. He wasn't sleeping by that tree this morning, but hopefully, he'd come… Hopefully, he'd come…

And he did.

As aloof, secretive, and aberrant as she remembered from the last time she saw him, he took the vacant seat on the third row, listening to the professor.

Then fifteen minutes before the lecture was officially over, he rose from his position – just like that first day – and was strolling out.

Bella expected this, and was now massacring through her materials as she packed up her paperwork and college books.

Angela's eyes were wide. "Class isn't over."

"I know."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Saving Lucifer," answered Bella, glee playing on the corners of her lips. She jumped out of her seat and jogged to the door, leaving her friend staring after her.

* * *

For this moment – for this split second – she felt she possessed all the confidence in the world. Somehow, she knew this would work.

It must.

"Wait!" Bella cried at the figure of the man walking away.

It was obvious he heard, but he made no movement to face the voice. For unknown reason, he was still walking away.

She didn't give up. She moved her feet faster. "Don't leave!"

With her hand, she grabbed his elbow. He flinched at the contact, but turned. His posture was defensive; it was as if… as if nobody ever touched him like that. It was as if he didn't want her – _anyone _– to touch him.

"Hi," she whispered, giving him the best convincing smile. Maybe he wouldn't take notice in the way her face was flushing and her lips were shaking.

His eyes, for a second, were simply wide and shocked. But the next, the pair narrowed, changing from dull green to irate electrifying neon. "You're that girl."

Bella suppressed the crazy urge to laugh; his voice was as gruff as that last time. She dismissed the feeling immediately, though, because she didn't need him to remember her. It was irrelevant to what she was going to do. "I have something for you. I have a gift."

His errant mask was forever in place. Actually, he looked at her as if she was crazy.

And in point of fact, Bella probably was.

"What do you want from me?"

_A smile, _Bella thought inwardly. But she never said that. "A chance for me. And you."

His eyebrows furrowed.

Although she was unperturbed by the lack of response, she still had a hard time forcing herself to keep eye-contact with those terrifying eyes. She blindly fished for the box in her backpack. Grinning when she grasped it, she pushed it forward.

He didn't move.

Biting her lip, she reached out to take his cold hands into one of hers. He cringed again, but she acted as if she didn't notice. Bella placed the wrapped box on his palms.

"It's for you, Lucifer," she murmured, taking a step away.

They were both wordless after that. The only notable thing that happened was the boy's glare detaching from the girl, only to redirect it to his hands.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

And then his jaw tensed, and his nostrils flared.

Bella Swan expected this too. After all, she would have reacted the same way if the situation was reversed. She would have reacted the same way if some crazy girl was giving her a gift too three years ago. She knew what it felt to be… Lucifer.

"It's an early Christmas present," she clarified.

He huffed.

"I'm not helping you," she defended herself in a soft voice. She never recoiled from his glower. "I'm offering the chance for you to allow yourself to be helped again."

At those words – at those monotonously yet softly spoken words – the boy felt his heart leaden, and lastly, burst like the Super Nova.

Then with a figurative clink, one of the million icicles in his heart melted.

She was _offering_ him kindness. She was _offering _help. She was _offering_ him the strength that might help him stand.

"And have a Merry Christmas," she whispered.

His face twisted into something between resentment and disorientation, trying to figure her out. He wanted to know what she was trying to do to him.

Bella took notice of this minute change in his demeanor. And this time, her smile was genuine and not shaky. She wanted to say something on top of that, but instead, she just nodded at him once with a special unspoken message engraved in her eyes – the nod meant so much more than words – and walked away.

Then at the exact second, the classes were being dismissed one by one. The hour was over.

He could see dozens of college students dwindling down the hallway to their second classes, while the others were heading back to their dormitory rooms.

Edward, the Lucifer, was neither these two kinds of students. He was an illegitimate student in this university, standing in the seas of yelling and running people, holding a box that was given to him by a girl he didn't even know.

He wasn't sure what made him take off the packaging, but when he did, his throat tightened at what he saw.

It was the red scarf she tried giving him that day.

But it wasn't exactly the scarf that made a seed of tender emotion sprout deep down in his lifeless heart. It was the sticky note on the bottom of the inside of the box, written in her scribble of a penmanship.

_God bless you, Lucifer. You can always rise back from the fallen._

More icicles melted away in his heart as an extraordinary feeling spread through the entire fiber of his being. Quickly, he raised his head and craned his neck, eyes roaming through the thick crowd.

Then he finally spotted the girl, still walking away, her brown hair flying behind her. Her head was ducked, but it was easy to see that she was suppressing a triumphant grin. Edward's eyes trailed after her until she disappeared down the corner.

She disappeared just like that.

He took a glimpse at the scarf again. His Christmas present…

Was she an angel?

* * *

_A Demon abhors, but at the same time, loves.  
__A Demon destroys, but at the same time, creates.  
__A Demon is a shadow of an Angel._

* * *

**I had no intention offending anyone with the religion. Any points I wrote regarding Catholicism were not for any purpose but to shape this story into one that I thought was for the best. If I had done something wrong with anything regarding to this subject (offending customs, overlooking important qualities, stating wrong facts and details, etc.), I apologize. And please, I would appreciate if you will inform me about this; I'll change and/or delete the detail immediately.**

**The winner of this contest will be decided by public vote. Voting will be open from December 26, 2009 through January 2, 2010 11:59 PM EST.  
****www-dot-fanfiction-dot-net/community/The_Last_Minute_Holiday_Fun_Times_One_Shot_Contest/76705/**

**_I will extend this one-shot to a short chapter story after the contest, so it is recommended to keep up with my updates if you enjoyed this._**

**I wish you a very Merry Christmas. Have a good one!**


	2. His Farewell

**I want to express my appreciation for all favorites and alerts. The reviews were absolutely lovely, thank you: **_**MissingJames, patch138, -MushroomToh-, Enigma Lynn, GoldenTresses91.**_

**Saving Lucifer  
****CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

"I'm sorry I had to leave," Bella admitted to her father on the phone. "I got last-minute calls for an internship interview."

"It's fine, Bella," Charlie returned. "I'm glad you came at all, actually."

Her heart felt warm at her father's genuine words, pleased. Truthfully, it really had been a while since Charlie and she had a real get-together. Only up until the moment she hopped out of her red truck and embraced her father, she realized just how much she had missed all this – the idea of a family, celebration, reunion…

And so Bella had just one answer.

"Me too, Dad," she replied quietly.

The last minutes of the phone call were filled with few more exchanges and even more short gaps of awkward silence.

_I can get used to this,_ Bella told herself.

She knew things were only starting to mend, and wounds needed time to heal. But at the end, when she had bonded with her father all over again as she was hoping – one of her New Year's Resolutions – then all would be worth it. She was sure of it.

When Charlie ineptly ended the call by saying he had to prepare for his weekly fishing trip, Bella started and checked the clock herself.

She was due for her internship interview in an hour.

Bella hurried to dress and clean herself for the next half hour, panicked at the thought that she was entirely unprepared for her potential job interview. It was odd and irritating at the same time. Bella was supposed to spend at least the first few weeks of January at Charlie's, but things didn't quite work out that way when she received a sudden call from Masen Corporations that they wanted an interview – that they were suddenly interested in her.

Of course, Bella was excited regardless the fact that she'd have to alter her plans for the entire winter break. Masen Corporations was prestigious in its highly selective and exclusive employees – even the internships. And to be frank, having its name on the job application of a college-graduate aspiring to become an executive secretary was venerable. In other words, he or she would be more apt to land a good job.

But it wasn't long before suspicion and doubt kicked in. She was _pretty_ sure she wasn't imagining when she received a rejection call.

Why now?

Bella felt like spending several minutes to try to discern what the company wanted from her and the reasons behind it.

But not now. Because right at the moment, she had quite literally jumped into her high heels, the very shoes she saved for special occasions like this. And knowing her clumsy nature, it would be most definitely helpful in her marathon dash to direct all her attention to every step she took.

* * *

At the moment, through Bella's eyes, Seattle was beautiful.

Even when the streets were covered with ice, and she'd have trouble going back to her condo.

Even when her suit was completely wet from the precipitation.

Even when her feet hurt from wearing her high heels for so long.

The reason was that Bella just had the interview, and was returned with a handshake and words of acceptance and congratulations.

If she could, Bella could fly.

"Boo," someone said as a hand landed on her shoulder.

Bella jumped, and swiftly turned on her stool to see her long-time friend Alice Brandon.

"Hey," Bella greeted. Her mouth was shaped in a smile so broad it was ridiculous.

The tiny woman's piercing gaze observed the childlike joy all over her face, taking a leap for the vacant stool beside. "I take it you got the internship?"

Bella had to bite her lower lip from grinning, and shrugged one shoulder in the humblest manner she could muster.

"That's great! I'm so happy for you!" Alice gasped, leaning forward to give a hug.

"I can't believe it though. It's… it's mindboggling," Bella murmured as they broke away. She nestled her Starbucks in her freezing hands, watching the steam disappear as it became part of the air around her.

"I'd be too," Alice replied, sighing and placing her chin onto the palm of her hand. The black-haired woman gazed blankly through the slightly fogged-up wall of glass to the seas of Seattleites.

"But it was a bit weird…" Bella's voice trailed off wearily.

That caught Alice's attention again. "Why? What happened?"

By now, Bella's former jittery smile transformed into an uncertain jut of the lips as a concerned line formed between her brows.

"They asked me if I took my Public Speaking course this year."

Alice raised one delicate eyebrow. She didn't have a clue why that was so strange. "Because they wanted to make sure you took that class before…?"

Bella shook her head.

Alice cocked her head to the side, waiting.

"Well," Bella continued as she twirled her wrists and watched the coffee swirl with the motion, "they asked me _when _I take it… like, if it's my first class, second class…"

Alice pursed her lips. "Well, it can't mean much, right?"

Bella's chuckle was weak, but dismissed the thoughts as best as she could. With a fresh intake of breath, she spun on her seat to meet Alice fully. "Enough about me, now. Who am I to complain when I got something my classmates would kill for?" She shrugged. "It's been so long. How are you doing?"

Alice clamped her lips together as if she was trying not to smile…

"Oh?" Bella uttered, teasing.

"_Well_…"

In the years Bella fraternized with the other woman, she learned that Alice was apt to hold her tongue and drag the moment for one of two possibilities: either she was incredibly upset or incredibly exultant.

And with the way she was squirming in the seat, she was definitely exultant.

"What have got there, hussy?" Bella asked, smirking.

"You won't believe it." Alice took in a huge breath with closed eyes as if to calm her nerves. Bella had to laugh when her friend opened her eyes again, because the respiration act she pulled certainly didn't work. "I'm opening a boutique."

It was silent for a moment before Bella burst into a wild squeal, and Alice joined a millisecond later.

"That's amazing!" Bella congratulated, hands flying in the air. "I mean, _wow_!"

"About time, don't you think?" Alice sighed, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Although Alice was less than five feet in length, had the perky youthful hairstyle, and often lived her life harebrained, she was five years older than Bella. That girl probably went through as many ups and downs of life as a fifty-year-old. Obviously, her dream was to become a successful designer working for private clients. She almost gave up one time when she naively got caught in the trap of a fraud who was supposed to offer financial aid for her career.

But now, none of that mattered.

"It's opening quite soon, actually," Alice admitted. Then she took over the soapbox and began to rant about her excitement for the boutique – and just everything from the beginning to the end.

Bella watched this quietly yet attentively as she sipped on her beverage. A smile graced her lips the entire time Alice went on and on. Normally, Bella would have begged Alice to slow down or chop things down, but not this time. She couldn't be happier for her friend who was truly destined to walk the life of a fashion designer.

Some time after, Alice's motor of a mouth finally halted and she was writing down the address of her soon-to-be-opening store onto the napkins.

"Here," she said as she placed it in Bella's hands, "you should come."

"Of course!" Bella laughed, shaking her head as if in disbelief. "This is… seriously awesome."

"Things are really working out for me now."

Bella nodded. "I'm so glad."

As two friends summed up the last seams with promises of seeing each other more often and the party information of the opening banquet of her boutique, they stood and gave each other a hug.

"Eh," Bella groaned playfully. "Now I have to buy a fancy dress I'll probably wear that one time."

Alice pulled away with a sly grin. "Remember, this isn't a pajama party. T-shirts are prohibited."

"I know. A boutique opening bash. Fancy dresses. Flowers. Classical music. Eggnog. Yay."

"I can't afford to have my friend look like she's just rolled out of bed. That will ruin my reputation before the boutique's even opened, and people might just doubt my taste." Alice rolled her eyes. "You _will_ look beautiful that evening."

"I'll try."

"You always are, Bella." Then Alice blinked and shrugged. "Well, _if_ you try, that is."

It was Bella's turn to roll her eyes. "So I'll see you next week?"

"Next week."

Then the girls parted.

* * *

He stood by the shadows on the shabby corner, listening and watching like the dark and silence. Edward Masen had been standing by the red brick building and the cathedral for the last hour or so, and it was troubling him.

He had no idea why he was there. He had no _reason_ to be here. Somehow, though, it was as though he was attracted to this holy place like the magnet, irresistible and luring. He _did _try to walk in with his head held up high like an innocent man, but he couldn't.

How could he? He _wasn't_ an innocent man.

"Fuck," he muttered, rotating his body so his forehead rested against the wall. His breaths were rough in his ears, and he could see the jarring movements of his chest.

_I have something for you. I have a gift._

He clenched his jaw.

_A chance for me. And you. It's for you, Lucifer._

Lucifer. Why did that name hurt him so much? It was as if it was plunging dozens of sharp knives into his heart again and again, driving deeper and deeper.

And he was such a sick masochist, because he was letting it.

_I'm not helping you. I'm offering the chance for you to allow yourself to be helped again._

A hand dug into his jacket until it felt the crumpled sheet of paper. It was soft and eroded after millions of times he touched, unfolded, read, and folded it back again. The creases were so distinct and deep, that with the wrong touch, the paper could tear.

So for the millionth time, as he read that short but meaningful message once again, he still couldn't bring himself to understand why it meant so much.

_You can always rise back from the fallen._

No matter how many times he reiterated that in his mind, the words made the same impact. Edward's heart would warm up for that single second until turning stoic again – more stoic than before – because he could sense the seed of hope beginning to sprout there.

He should get rid of the note.

Before he could change his mind, he crumpled the paper in his hands, ready to abandon it on the ground…

He couldn't.

With a shuddering sigh, Edward angrily shoved it back into his pocket. He wasn't sure what he hated more – him being stupid or the note that was making him so.

So could he rise back from the fallen? But what if he was too far below that there was absolutely no way? And if he did rise, what would be the price? Would it be worth it?

Did he _want_ to rise again?

"Mother Esme," a distant sound exclaimed with pure delight.

Edward's head snapped toward the direction of the voice – the very voice he'd been thinking of, imagining, and hating for the weeks. It was the very girl who had been in his thoughts since that very day she offered him kindness he didn't deserve.

Why the hell was _she_ here? _How_?

He saw Esme embracing the mousy girl, clearly pleased, and led her through the doors.

At first, it was annoyance and shock because if possible, things were making even less sense than before. Then, curiosity crawled all over him. It was tingly, itching, constant, and exciting. Edward Masen lost control of things altogether as he stuck his hands into his jacket – fists touching the fragile card the girl had written him – and began to head into the building himself.

* * *

"When you're young, you should be daring and courageous. You should be so brave that you could jump into the fires, doubting that it would hurt you. Unfortunately, I must say the young ones today aren't at all like that. They're too tamed and under control. They lost all passion and way. So if you can't be passionate in your early days, when can you? Everything will hurt. Pain comes before anything sweet. You will learn to love while you can, and doing it with all your heart and ability. God built us in a way that when we fall in love, we leave our nests and family. If you're truly in love, you leave everything behind. You won't even realize you had, and that's when you've come to meet who you belong to."

Bella smiled, and motioned her hands so she could settle into a prayer. With mumbled words and multiple sighs in between, the service was done. Immediately, chatter and noise filled the air as people around her rose to their feet, ready to leave.

She always stayed behind for a couple of minutes, though. She never understood how people could leave so easily and hurriedly. After every visit to the church, she'd still fly with the sentiments of Father Carlisle's words.

Relaxing into the pews, she let herself rethink what he'd said and file them into her heart and mind. This moment, like always, made her feel as though she was part of the entire church itself – the intricate designs, architecture, benches, marble floor, candles, the aroma, the Christmas tree…

"I thought you'd be gone until end of January."

Bella peeked through her eyelashes. "I did too. Change of plans."

She resumed to her daydreams and subconscious state of mind as Esme quietly gathered herself on the space beside. The older woman observed with a peculiar gaze, and smiled at what she saw.

"You seem happy."

Bella's lips turned up into a wry smile. "Got an internship I've always wanted."

Esme paused, and added, "You seem… at peace."

"I do?"

"Yes."

The younger woman sighed. "Depends on what."

Esme arched one eyebrow, realizing. "Is it… the boy?"

At that, Bella stiffened. Her eyelids slowly fluttered back open until her eyes were staring straight at the high ceiling of the cathedral.

"What happened to him?" Esme murmured, so quietly that her words molded into the emptiness in the air.

"I don't know," Bella whispered.

And it was true. She hadn't seen him since, and she had no opportunity to. School was closed, she was absent from Seattle altogether for couple of weeks, and it was only several days since she came back from Forks. However, that didn't mean he ever left her mind. Although he wasn't the pivotal subject of her daily thoughts, he was just _there._

Like the annoying song stuck in your head for the entire day, the one you just can't seem to forget or stop.

Bella was pretty sure she was thinking of him even when she thought she wasn't. He was a constant nagging presence at the corner of her mind, and she couldn't file him away or anything. It was extremely exhausting to her mental psyche, to be honest. It was as if her inner soul was praying for him restlessly. But exhausting or not, Bella couldn't do anything about it.

For one, she really was curious about his whereabouts and worried about his well-being. But for the most part, Bella was afraid. Will she see Lucifer ever again?

"I gave him my scarf," Bella blurted out unthinkingly.

Esme's eyes widened but didn't say anything.

Bella's gaze turned hazy and confused. "He didn't like it," she sighed. "I did my best though. I also wrote a card, but it's probably meaningless. He probably thinks Lucifer is something to eat…"

Esme chuckled. "I doubt that."

Shrugging, Bella leaned onto her knees. "And you should have seen his face… I've never seen anything like it."

"You did mention once or twice that he was quite a sharp-looking man."

Heat rose to her cheeks as she sat up and halfheartedly glared. "I did not!"

"Oh?"

"Well, on second thoughts, I may have… _indirectly_ mentioned that… but…"

The older woman laughed.

"That's not the point, though, and I think I said he'd _be _good-looking with some body fat and a smile," Bella argued, still blushing nevertheless. "Besides, what I really meant just now was that the expression on his face would be something I won't forget."

"Tell me, Bella."

"Indescribable," Bella replied honestly. "English words fail me. It just made me freeze for a second, before turning into to Jell-O." Her eyes narrowed. "But I swear I touched him a bit. I mean, he had that faraway look in his eyes…" Bella sighed loudly, discouraged. "At least I tried."

A pat on Bella's shoulder was all she got from the woman.

"Thanks," Bella mumbled.

"I wish you luck."

Her eyes showed grief. "But I don't even know if I'll ever see him again…"

"If this was meant to be, Lord will bring him to you. You just wait patiently."

And as Bella glimpsed at Esme's reassuring face, she somehow managed to stay quiet and nod. For some reason, Bella believed that too.

* * *

So she was a Catholic.

He should have expected that. He should have known right away.

"Of course," he sighed to himself, leaning against the dark space of the room as inconspicuously as he could.

Except for the people sitting on the very backseats, nobody knew Edward Masen was even in there. He was absolutely silent as he listened to Carlisle's words through one ear and disposing them through the other.

The moment he had walked in, he instantly regretted and felt the urge the run back out. But he knew that'd only attract more attention, and simply settled on hiding next to the dusty corner where barely anyone noticed.

People would peek back nosily, obviously disgusted and chagrinned that such person with indecent clothes and behavior was attending the service with them.

Edward had snorted at that. It was funny that they judged him with what he revealed. He thought they were supposed to be Catholics?

But besides, Edward could barely care. His attention wasn't on them anyway. Instead, it was on that college girl he met.

Of course he had noticed Carlisle and Esme instantaneously, feeling the rush of different array of emotions hitting him like a wreck. After that subsided, he noticed the horrible playing of the organist. Now? All his senses were on the girl now.

His intrigue in her was utterly maddening. To be perfectly honest, she had nothing to offer him.

_I'm not attracted to her,_ he reasoned. _She's just interesting. And stupid. And odd. And awkward._

If he had to be so blunt, she wasn't pretty at all. She was someone he'd see down the streets anywhere, and her body was barely anything to look at. He'd bet that she was just another attendant of University of Washington.

That girl wasn't worth his time.

But still…

Something about her was definitely interesting, undoubtedly. Was it that she was as tall as a dwarf – possibly more than a foot shorter than him? Was it that her eyes were so darn big and almost disgustingly buggy that they covered half her face? Was it that she seemed to have a habit of tugging on her ponytail whenever she seemed deep in thought? If none of those were it, could it possibly because she was so brave, so scared, and yet so sincere?

What was it?

The hour went by breathlessly, his thoughts centering on her and only her, still wondering. But then she would smile to herself out of nowhere, and he'd finally understand.

Someone once told him that a person he'd hate would be the one he'd love and admire – that any person's ideal type would be someone he would never be and aren't. It was like the concept of opposites that attract. It was love from envy.

And so that smile proved. That hauntingly genuine smile from a ridiculously normal-looking girl was the answer to his question.

She was someone he was envious of, and he'd never be her.

Edward Masen was locked in this revelation in mild shock and denial when he heard the door bang open to the daylight. He lurched, quickly moving to blend into the crowd and make a quiet departure, silently determined to never meet the insignificant girl ever again… in case she might ruin him more than he was now…

But that was when he heard it.

"I gave him my scarf."

Blinking, he swiftly turned to see the girl still sitting where she had been the entire hour, talking to none other but Esme. And suddenly, he felt so curious and so sneaky he wanted to eavesdrop.

But he couldn't hear a thing. All he witnessed after that was the alert blush on her face as her hands flailed out as if to defend herself… the dazed look… the smile… the nod…

When he was no longer able to stand the disgust in the weird attraction he felt, he literally dashed out the door. He ran so blindingly fast that in a split second, he was already part of the hundreds of walking people in the main Seattle streets.

Alas, the running did no help.

For the next endless hours, he drifted into thought. His feet were moving, but he had no idea where he was heading to. He was looking, but he had no idea what he was looking at.

It was when the sun was setting he finally decided what he'd do. He'd been thinking about the girl, the cathedral, Esme and Carlisle, Rosalie, his life, his past, his future… the note in his pockets…

He made no progress in trying to establish the thoughts; he only went far enough so that he figured out his general plan into a messy brainstorming list in his brain. Edward simply refused to establish anything now, because to be frank, he only knew the things in tidbits and details, but not as a whole.

And he was unwilling to find out anytime soon. Because if he did, he was afraid to find out that this one decision could possibly change all his plans thus far.

Edward was completely out of logic as he ran as fast as he could back to the church. He needn't think, because he knew the way too well.

By then, the night had swallowed the day when he was huffing with a hunched back and hands on his knees. As he tried to get his breathing back in control, he heard an indistinct squeak of the door opening.

When he heard it, he was terrified, berating himself for his prompt decision.

So he had to remind himself that he _had_ decided. Deep inside, he knew that he knew why, but that he wasn't ready for that – not just yet. He just knew he wanted to, and he'd let everything go as they will for the moment.

As he peeked through his eyelashes, Esme was there.

The glee in her eyes was really something. It would be a lie if he said he didn't feel welcomed or appreciated. It was the first time in a long time someone gazed at him like that.

He realized just how much he missed company.

"You're back!" Esme gushed, this time wasting no second as she ran down the steps to hug Edward's stiff form.

He stood motionless, arms hanging by his side awkwardly as the woman sobbed into his chest. In the biting cold, she stayed like that, murmuring things of Elizabeth Masen and others he'd rather bury in his memory forever.

"Edward Masen," she whispered through her thick tears, hands hovering over his face and touching his cheek over and over again. "You've grown so much!"

Edward pulled her away, even though he noticed her sadness.

She didn't mention it. "There's shelter in the cathedral. Please come."

Edward merely shook his head once.

The woman opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, but she didn't say anything.

_This is it._ Edward quietly sucked in the cold air through his nostrils, and clenched his fists to brace himself for what he was about to say.

"I want to play," he finally muttered.

Waiting for a response was even more terrifying, seeing the emotions he could name but not want to admit flashing in the old woman's wise eyes. Like that, a long silence pervaded until she finally broke into a huge grin.

Edward's eyes stayed lock at her feet, unable to look at that joyous face.

"That'd be wonderful! Please, Edward! Please, do!"

Then Edward felt the need to explain himself. "I mean, it's only because that other guy sucks."

"You were here?" gasped the nun. "Why didn't you tell me so? I didn't see you!"

He ignored her. "Every Sunday. Every service. I'll be there. I'll be there by the organ."

"Of course, of course!"

It was the first time in three years he felt heat in his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he nodded once in a very curt manner before bracing himself into a dash again.

"Wait!"

Edward's shoulders slacked as he obliged. "What?" he bit off rather harshly.

"What made you change your mind?" Esme's voice questioned cautiously, all sign of joy muted at the second. "Would you tell me?"

It was as though all his energy left him and absorbed into the ground, forever gone. He felt as if he lost all his power with that sole question.

"I…" Edward trailed off, sucking on his inner cheek. "Someone inspired me."

He was sure it wasn't his imagination when he heard Esme's breath get caught. "May I ask who?"

Without another word or glance over his shoulder, Edward walked off. His cheeks were redder than ever, and definitely not from the ice cold temperature of the weather.

He could feel the card in his jacket pocket now, like it suddenly weighed him down. He could imagine the words being said through her voice.

_You can always rise back from the fallen._

He didn't believe that, but by the way he heart sped up every time he read it, he couldn't be too certain.

* * *

"It's been some time, huh?"

Edward Masen was disheveled – yet artistically so – in his obvious oblivion, misery, angst, and anger. His hair was snowy and streaky with the dashing colors of gold and auburn, like autumn and winter and the days in between. His eyes were lovely lush green that made the perfect oxymoron against the fervid bronze. And the man was sickly thin and gangly tall, disgustingly angular more than muscular though sharp and agile in his movements. His cheeks were sallow, and the fluid fingers of his hands bulged out with the finger joints and knuckles. It was as though he was losing a pound day by day.

Hands in his pockets – casual yet tense – he had his eyes roving the branchless tree before him. His smile was condemned. "You haven't changed though, not at all… not even in this harsh winter. You've always been the same, even back then: beautiful, elegant, strong, brave, commendable… I used to be like that, but I've changed." His voice dropped a whole notch as he distractedly gazed up at the sky. "Everything I wished and worked for are all gone… just like the winds…" He stared at his foot making circles on the dirt. "And I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

He tilted his gaze back at the lonesome tree, feeling stupid and envious at the same time. He felt stupid because he was envious of some _tree_. Damn it, he really had to stop this.

"You haven't changed one bit."

The voice wasn't his. Edward's posture improved at the sound.

"Still talking to this tree?" the voice continued.

Only Edward would be able to identify the desperation and deep sorrow beneath the casual tone.

"You're better than this." He didn't miss the double-meaning of it.

He didn't spin around to meet the face. Edward actually smiled, though. "I'll never kick the habit."

"Well, would you try to refrain from doing it with people around?"

One tip of his lips tipped up, all warm and emotional. It was true – the streets were packed with people, and they've been raising eyebrows at the boy for his odd behavior. It was not an everyday sight, obviously, to have a good-looking young man having a conversation with a random tree.

"I've left everything behind. Nothing matters now."

The voice scoffed. "No, you've gotten loony."

Edward ducked so his chin was tucked to his chest. He let out a snort. Then another. And another, before he was… laughing. He hadn't done that in a while.

"I didn't know you'd come," he admitted breathlessly.

"That makes the two of us." She paused for a long time. "How did you know where I was?"

At that, he let the question float in the air, unanswered.

Then the same feminine voice was no longer condescending or sarcastic. It was now warm, caring, and sensitive – everything the former wasn't. "How were you, Edward?" she whispered.

Finally, Edward spun around.

The girl stood in the middle of the sea of zigzagging people. The first thing he noticed was nothing else but the hair. Her long blonde hair was no longer long. It was short, messily curled, and youthful as it ended right above her shoulder.

"Rosalie," he mumbled.

"You look as if you weigh hundred pounds," she said, her voice cracking with invisible tears.

Edward saw straight through her set jaw and nervous stare. She was worried – possibly the only person in the world who was.

"Speak for yourself," he retorted, scrutinizing. Edward didn't like what he observed. Her hair was one thing, but her skin was paler and all wrong. "Not to mention, you look albino."

"Your posture needs improvement."

"You look as good as a corpse."

"You look filthy."

"You look ill."

"You need a haircut."

Edward sighed. "Speaking of hair, what have you done to yours?"

One thin blonde eyebrow rose in challenge.

Edward raised both of his in retaliation.

It was as though time had stopped and people walking beside them were in mosaics and blurs. They could only see each other in the fifteen feet distance they put between their bodies.

Edward felt sorrow in his chest. He cared absolutely nothing for himself, for he was the loser in life, has lost everything, no longer held onto hope, and basically mentally dead. However, this girl – a pretty woman now – was a different question. This beautiful girl with so much potential was another story. She was everything to him since the very first memory he could remember.

He might have lost belief in everything he had – even in God – but if he had one last thing he held onto with everything he could, it was the firm timeless belief that Rosalie could do it. She was strong, unlike him. She would make it through. She must.

But at this rate, he wasn't so sure. Maybe she won't. Because, at least the last time he saw her, she was wearing something warm and decent. Back then, she had the little blush beneath her creamy cheeks. Back then, she didn't have those tired lines around her mouth and eyes.

She was only twenty-years-old, for Christ's sake.

"What the _fuck_ happened to you?" Edward whispered harshly. Nothing was more ironic; the one person that meant everything to him was turning into one thing he hated the most – himself. As much as he hated to admit, deep down, even denial was futile. Edward could see it already – Rosalie was taking the same haunted path he took. He could see the signs – she was becoming a clone of him.

Rosalie twisted her answer. "I think I'd have to ask that question."

His face turned sour. "What do you think happened?"

She stared. "What do _you_ think happened to _me_?"

"I know what I would have not liked to happen."

She took one step forward, tentative. "Things were… out of control."

"It's my fault again, isn't it? Like always," he breathed, closing his eyes. "Why is that?"

She spoke slowly, as if her voice could shatter him, "I'm sure you knew the consequences of that actions you were about to take."

"I did, but regardless, I never wanted them to happen." He took a big breath through his nose and hissed out the next words, "I… I even fucking tried _praying_ –"

Rosalie's face was bitter, her glances only to the ground.

Edward knew for a fact that she was ashamed and sad, definitely not angry though she looked like it. He felt dizzy, as if the world was crashing down all over again.

This time, he took a step forward. He couldn't help but give an irate look. "You've done nothing while I was gone. You promised you would, but you didn't. You thought you could hide that?" He swallowed, anger slowly climbing to the tip of his tongue. Her silence prodded him on, and he used it to his advantage. His voice shook. "You can't disappoint me like that. You shouldn't have given up!"

Were those tears in her eyes? "I've _looked_ for you, Edward! All this time!" she cried, oblivious to the way some pedestrians stared. "I had to know you were okay! You were nowhere to be found, and I was left all alone! I was seventeen – what choice did I have? Trapped in this stinking city of Seattle?"

Something inside him snapped, and fury took over. "What do you mean?"

"You seriously believed everything would be fine after you just _left_?"

Her words shook his world, realization hitting him. Edward felt the urge to hang himself – drown himself – burn himself to death –

Just anything to provoke himself pain.

Instead, he buried his face in his hands. He didn't want to believe her. Had he been so foolish to think she would be safe and sound? As she said – under Seattle?

She let out a soft but strangled laugh. Edward heard resignation. With it, he also detected anguish. He couldn't do this anymore. This was supposed to be a healthy reunion, not the reminder of his past.

His jaw tightened as he looked up again, pain written all over his face.

Rosalie met his gaze halfway, and she nodded once meekly.

Edward's stomach dropped. "Tell me you're lying."

His eyes swept over her form again, and he knew she wasn't. Everything he'd done to try to protect her has now proven to be a failure and a miss. He felt horrible.

"Are you all right?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"I'm okay," Rosalie said quietly. "I'll _be_ okay."

He shook his head, unconvinced.

"I'll be fine, Edward."

But he had already turned his back on her, fists balled up in his jacket again. "I promise. _I_ may be done and useless, but I won't let that happen to _you_. I'll do anything for you. I'll do it."

His voice was hard and strong with conviction and mission. He could be the person he wanted to be all this time. He could be the hero – for her.

Rosalie began moving forward swiftly, and before Edward knew it, he was forced to see her.

His lips pressed into a sentimental line, staring into her pretty blue eyes. It seemed her eyes were the only things that didn't change. He was suddenly worried if the pretty light in those will be forced to turn off. Her hair… her skin… She was ghastly as she was.

He really had prayed, and that was the last thing he would ever do. But for her, he did. He yearned for her well-being and happiness, even visited the sweltering church back where he came from, praying wherever she was and whatever she was doing, she was the opposite of what he was – miserable.

"Edward," she called his name, eyes narrowing. Her face told him that she wasn't sure what he was thinking and that she was anxious to know. She was worried if he was doing too much.

But Edward just stared back stoically. What he would do would be anything but sacrifice.

"I have to leave now," Edward mumbled gruffly.

She blinked, dazed. "So soon?"

He shrugged one shoulder.

"Be safe, then." She clamped her lips shut for a moment. "You're the only one I have left."

He didn't mind that he was lying when he nodded. He'll pay any price for Rosalie and the freedom she was to taste. He could suffer for her, only for her.

Then she smiled, blissfully unaware, and leaned to plant a kiss on his lips. "Will I see you soon?"

He was careful not to meet her eyes because he was afraid he might lose his mind. "Goodbye."

Goodbye – because he wasn't sure if he actually will ever see her again, and he wasn't going to make a promise.

Edward Masen turned and moved away from the only person he loved. With head ducked, eyes wide and unfocused, and feet dragging against the sidewalk, he never glanced back.

* * *

_Neither Angels nor Demons exist.  
__People just change in different circumstances._

* * *

**I am mortified with my lack of responsibility. Is it last year already? Haha, well, I can't believe it's been about six months! I know this chapter is kind of bad and boring, but it's a filler (:. Plus, please tell me if there are any mechanical mistakes? I'm not very good with proofreading…  
****So does anyone out there have any guesses to what's going on (Rosalie, internship, where Edward's been, why Edward left, Esme and Edward's relationship…)?  
****Take a shot! Dare you (;**


	3. Their Second

****

Thanks for everything you do! I give my biggest appreciation to

_**Enigma Lynn**_** and**_** patch138**_**.**

**Saving Lucifer  
****CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

"This better not become a habit," Edward muttered, pacing around.

His stance was awkward, not really hiding but rather in the verge of it as he floated around the buildings he knew as a child. He remembered everything all too clearly, now that he was physically standing in the midst of it. Oh, how he wished to turn back the time… only if he could…

The hours went by quickly, and he was surprised to see the skies turning pink before blue. Hunched, defeated, and exhausted, he slid down against a wall until he was sitting on the ground with one of his knees brought to his chest.

Edward was waiting. Although he wished nothing more than to run away before _she_ came, he knew it wouldn't be fair. Seeing her might be something he was unwilling to do, yet he must. He owed her that much.

When the voice he'd been waiting for lilted to him from few feet away, he turned rigid, eyes focused forward. He realized he'd been lacking observational skills tonight, for he had missed her arrival completely.

"Hey," Edward finally murmured, still unable to make eye contact.

Alice Brandon's footsteps were even and patient as they padded closer and closer to him. Edward almost smiled at what he saw from his peripheral vision; just like he expected, she didn't burst into tears or run over to embrace him. Instead, Alice barely acknowledged him as she turned to the entrance and dialed series of digits on the security device. The entrance door of the apartment building opened with a beep.

"Come in," she said, as if he visited everyday.

Without any hesitance, he rose and followed.

_She's unchanging,_ Edward thought, watching the little woman sashay up the stairs – her hair ever wild, all of passion and craze, and her form ever tiny, all youthful and endearing. But for the most part, he was grateful of the agelessness of her happy but sharp personality and intellect, neither rusty nor out of control.

_Alice will be Alice,_ he concluded… but that was until she declared something.

"I should warn you now," she said quietly, still leading the way, "They've been coming in and out of my house."

Edward's steps faltered.

She noticed. "If they think I'm unaware of them breaking into my house, they're stupider than they look."

His steps faltered again, but this time, he didn't try to pull himself together. Letting out a shuddering breath, he slowed until he was just standing there.

Alice, too, immediately halted some distance from him.

What he saw then was remarkable, yet horrific.

This was not the girl – a woman now – who was strong and confident, but afraid and restless in the same nightmares that haunted Edward Masen himself. He silently wondered why he never noticed her this way – this awkward, powerless, dejected person was everything the person he knew wasn't.

But as sickening as it was, it made him feel better knowing that he wasn't alone in this.

"I should leave," Edward told her.

"It's okay."

"No, it's okay," he reiterated, hoping she knew what he meant.

"No, really" – she sighed – "I'm delighted that you're here."

Edward ran his hand through his big tangle of hair, the color of decomposing fall leaves, dark with rain.

"Do you need some clothes?" Alice pondered.

Edward glanced down to his chest and his oversized shirt that was smudged with marks of dirt and grime. "No thanks."

"Come." Then she was walking again.

Without thinking, he followed pursuit.

"I don't think this is a good idea," he whispered as Alice stopped in front of her room and held out her keys.

It was subtle – the way she managed not to look at Edward. "Me neither."

"Then why…?"

She merely smiled and went inside without inviting him in.

"Wait there!" her distant voice warned.

An hour passed – or at least it seemed like it – and Edward almost acted on the idea to just walk away and play like this whole reunion never happened.

Almost.

Inept and somewhat self-conscious, he lingered in front of the doorway, leaned onto it, sat on the floor, tapped his fingers on the wall, paced – just about anything a person could do while waiting aimlessly. It was even more frustrating to not hear her voice for so long; there were only muffled footsteps and shuffles he didn't understand.

"I –" Edward started, though it was barely hearable, "I think I should leave."

Either Alice was too busy to hear him, or she ignored.

"I'll leave," he told himself before turning on the balls of his feet and trotting down the way he came.

"Edward –" Alice finally shouted, though the tone of her voice was happy. But then she turned frantic. "Edward? Edward! Where are –" She huffed as she scanned down the corridors to spot a lonesome man. Jumping into her sneakers, she dashed down until she outpaced him and stood before his stature. "Don't run away like that again."

Edward, more than surprised, stepped backward.

She sighed before handing him a large package of a box.

Curious and extremely baffled, he took it from her tentatively. Then on top of that, she also placed a small pink bag.

"Alice, what's this?" He glared at the fluffy pink.

She snorted. "Oh, right. You hate pink."

He wrinkled his nose.

The woman only shrugged. "Take this to – wherever you live now."

He frowned a bit. Truthfully, he didn't really _have _a place –

She chuckled nervously. "Oh, or I guess you don't really have your own place…"

It was both heartwarming and maddening that she wasn't begging for him to stay – which she was probably desperate to do in her mind – or asking where he usually hung around so she could visit him from time to time.

"Well, if you must leave…" she trailed off, gesturing towards the way he was heading, "I guess I _won't_ see you again?"

Edward bit his inner cheek.

She nodded slowly. "I understand."

Did she, really? "Alice –"

"Though I hope we do meet again," she interrupted, "Somehow. Somewhere. Sometime. Coincidence or not."

Oh, how sly she was. He knew that she knew he was terrible with _those_ – the way she'd make herself look so helpless, depressed, and just – _vulnerable._

Edward snorted as past memories flooded back into his thoughts.

For a reason Edward did not know but still think he knew, she snorted too.

"So this is goodbye?" She scampered sideways to open the way for him again.

He nodded at the floor. "Bye."

When he reached the bottom floor and came out the building, he took his place back in the shadows where he'd been waiting for the afternoon. Curiosity got the best of him as he carefully tore a small part of the taped portion of the box. Hesitant to find out, he peeked. Then he smiled, secretly pleased to find his past possessions – everything from his childhood toys to his violin and high school textbooks.

But then there was that pink pouch. It was even scarier to open than the box, for he knew that knowing Alice…

Well, things were never predictable.

Still, he opened it anyway… and barked out a light laugh. Of course, he should have known. This was Alice Brandon he was dealing with.

There was money – a lot of money – and some basic toiletries, emergency numbers, and more of his tiny old sundries. However, they really didn't matter at the moment.

Taped to the material he was smiling at was a note in Alice Brandon's curly handwriting.

_Serious need of haircut. Get one. ASAP._

It was the salon's free-haircut coupon.

* * *

Today would be her last day working here.

"Here's your Mint Chocolate Chip scoop," Bella recited, pressing buttons on the cashier and receiving and giving money.

When the teenage boy that bought the ice cream left the facility, Bella yawned and stretched before falling onto the nearby chairs with a plop.

"Tired, are we?" Maggie said as she passed by.

Bella cracked a wan smile. "Just a bit." She glanced at the clock, and didn't know whether to smile or not. She had barely fifteen minutes left. After that, she'd be gone.

"I'll miss you" – Maggie poked out her head from the employee room – "especially your diligence. No part-time worker works half as hard as you do."

Bella returned, "Thanks. I'll miss you too, Maggie. We'll see each other around, still."

"I'm sure."

The last minutes of her job passed by quickly, and Bella only had one more customer to deal with before she was stripping out of the uniform. Bella said good bye to her dear friend Maggie, promising once more that she'll keep in touch.

As Bella stepped out and retired to the streets, she collided into a body of a girl. Usually, Bella would be the clumsy one and fall on her rear, but it was the other person who did.

It wasn't so hard to believe, considering how feeble the blonde girl's body looked.

"I'm so sorry!" Bella apologized, dropping to her knees and helping her up.

"No, it's okay," the blonde bit off, adjusting her cap to cover her face as she pushed away Bella's helpful hands.

"No, I'm –"

"I said I'm fine."

No matter how polite that was said, it still had the underlying cadence of bitterness.

Bella quieted down immediately, intimidated.

Now that Bella took in her entire form, she noticed that the girl only _looked_ like a girl. When speculated more closely and deliberately, she was, instead, definitely a young woman. If she had only passed by, Bella might have thought she was a high school boy, since her hair was cropped so short up to her chin.

Bella watched quietly, fidgeting, as the blonde went back down on her knees and began collecting her belongings that fell off her humongous sack. Unable to dismiss the guilt, Bella came down as well and helped her organize.

The other girl sniffed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you off."

Bella stared, wide-eyed. "Err, no, I'm the one sorry."

They took few moments picking up the things sprawled about. Although Bella didn't voice it, she was very intrigued with what she had gathered. Normally, a cute blonde like her would carry around something cosmetic – of make-up, mirror, wallet, and even a personal organizer. What Bella found, however, were things unexpected – multiple pairs of socks, tiny medical kit, files of paperwork, brown bag of what looked like haphazardly made lunch, bunches and bunches of unread letters and mails, and… a small self-defense blade. From the corner of her eyes, Bella watched, pondering. _Hmm, after all, she doesn't look like the Barbie type._

The blonde woman tucked a short piece of her hair behind her ear. After zipping up a monster of a bag, she hauled it over her shoulders. Bella wasn't able directly stare at her eyes, for they were hidden in the shadow of her visor.

"Thanks," her tiny voice said.

"No problem," Bella answered. Then, something small on the ground caught her eye. She bent down and picked it up.

It was a photo, old and classic. The way the ends were ragged and folded showed how long it had been treasured, touched, and… _nurtured._ In it was a thin blonde girl with a radiant smile and pretty features, and standing next to her was equally blissful looking man –

Bella sucked in a breath.

_Lucifer._

The picture, in one blink, was out of Bella's fingers and into the grasp of the blonde girl. While Bella still didn't make out much of her face, Bella was certain that she was furious… and harassed.

"I'm sorry," Bella whispered, shocked, "H – He just looked a lot like who I know…"

Her head snapped up. "No, you don't. That's not possible. You couldn't have –" The blonde girl's breaths were heavy and deep, and suddenly, unadulterated fury radiated off her so intensely that Bella felt as if she was knocked in the stomach. "Who the hell are you? Who are you working for?"

It was unexpected. Bella could have sworn that her hands reached into her bag to close around the knife blade. "No one," answered Bella, voice tiny and frail with fear, "I just…"

The girl scanned Bella from head to toe, measuring and gauging. Then she mumbled something to herself that sounded something along the lines of 'I should know.'

"I didn't mean to," Bella whispered. She had no idea why she had to defend herself, but did anyway.

But Bella never got an answer. Because faster than she thought possible, the girl had moved away. Before she knew it, the girl was disappearing into a tiny dot down the sidewalk, blending into the crowds of people.

* * *

Bella was in a black mood when she finally entered the correct facility: Alice's boutique. She could have burst into tears when she spotted her friend holding a drink of pretty cocktail, eyes lit with joy… then confusion, seeing Bella's grumpy scowl.

"What happened to you?" Alice ushered her friend into the throng, nodding and smiling to people who acknowledged her once or twice. "Are you okay?"

No, Bella was most definitely not okay. Her day had been tough thus far. On her way alone, Bella almost fell five times – and did really trip the other additional three times – on her heels. She also got lost around the corners of these streets, for today was the first time she ever came to such elite part of Seattle. Not to mention, her umbrella failed her in the middle of everything, and so she was pretty much soaking wet.

Alice sighed as Bella left the questions unanswered. "Okay, do I _want_ to know?"

Bella groaned, "I don't think so."

"Right" – Alice pushed Bella back towards the refreshment tables full of delicious pastries, little snacks, punches and drinks, and napkins – "get spoiled."

Bella chose not to. But out of courtesy, she grabbed a small drink so it could accompany her as she floated through the crowds.

People from all directions stared at Bella with rude eyes, speculating and observing… _judging._ Bella was powerless in this situation though, flitting on the corners and feeling out of place in her drenched dress and tresses. _They_ were what plebeians considered as the socialites of Seattle, and she was just a petty girl.

Alice wasn't kidding when she said Bella _had_ to look good.

Scurrying to the skirts of the hall and away from prying eyes, Bella hid under the silk drapes hanging from the ceiling. She hoped she didn't make any negative effect on Alice's new business and clients.

The boutique interior, Bella had to admit, was tasteful, cultured, and classic. White marble hugged the floors, and matching royal purple wallpaper made her feel like she was an owner of a majestic palace. She distantly remembered Alice's words: _When I get my own corner in the streets, I want to make it beautiful, just like the clothes I make and the way I want my customers to feel when they wear them._

It appeared that Alice definitely accomplished. Especially with the sample clothes display she saw on the neat racks near one side, Bella was even surer of it.

For the next hour or so, she lurked around the walls as if they held her ground. Probably, it was her frizzy hair and relative make-up that kept her away from mingling like everyone else, but whatever reason, she remained out of any circle. Bella was still genuinely excited and happy for her best friend in accomplishing her dreams, but meanwhile, she was always uncomfortable in these social situations, especially the ones with soft music, chatters, pricey alcohol, buffet, and most of all – formal wear.

"Bella! Where were you?" Alice shouted from afar, "I've been looking!"

"You okay?" Bella asked, scrunching her eyebrows at the breezy way her friend talked. All chic and confident yet weary and cumbersome, pieces of Alice's styled hair were out of place. She also looked as if she had been starved for days.

"Yeah. Kind of. It's all under control" – Alice breathed in oxygen – "Still nervous, I guess."

"You're doing fine."

Alice joined Bella against the wall. A breathless giggle bubbled forth from her as she swept her bare neck, and suddenly, Bella had the strange impression that she was a bit more than just nervous. The black-haired woman wasn't at ease at all, fidgeting and glancing away with eyes scanning the hordes of laughing people.

Quietly, Bella met her eyes, but Alice lowered hers to the ground, confirming her suspicions.

"What's wrong?"

She did the giggling thing again.

Bella's eyes narrowed. "Alice," she warned.

Startled, Alice shook her head. "Well, actually…"

"Yes?"

Cautious eyes met curious ones. Alice sunk her teeth into her lip. "I want you to meet someone."

Reflexively, Bella groaned and took a step away. "I'm not playing your matchmaking games again, Alice. I look and feel horrible as I am, and I don't want some guy to ruin anything farther."

"No. no." She waved her hands frantically. "It's not anything like that. I would've warned you days ago if it were. It's just an acquaintance."

The mode Alice used to phrase and say her words were so desperate, touching, and true that Bella, though dubious, nodded anyway. At a loss to what to say, she probed, "Now?"

The childlike hazel in her eyes was remarkably brighter at Bella's resignation, bobbing her head and slipping a hand around her elbow. She pulled her friend towards the entrance. "I hope you like him."

Bella's eyebrows climbed. "Your anxiety doesn't exactly exude that, but okay."

Alice's smile didn't reach her eyes. Her attention wasn't on Bella…

The sounds of chatter surrounded the two women as they hurriedly crossed the ornate room. "Alice, calm down. I'll behave. But where is this man again?"

Her behavior was still peculiar. "Just so you know" – she abruptly stopped walking, surprising Bella – "he might not even make it here tonight, but…"

Bella paused, mildly taken back.

"Stay here."

"I will."

* * *

_Alice has the taste,_ he concluded. Everything in the room simply emanated richness and luxury.

He knew he was late. He did so intentionally.

His intentions were futile.

When he had straggled up the little steps into the entry, he was met with people's eyes drawing up at him straightaway.

And that was something he was avoiding to tolerate.

Although it was most likely the twinkling of the bells of the glass door that got him the attention, he went paranoid, thinking they knew all about him, his past, his darkest secrets… The fact that these people were wrapped up in glamour and extravagance and flashing false smiles only exacerbated his foul mood.

He shouldn't have come.

"You came!"

"I did," Edward replied, turning towards the source of the voice and offering a tight smile.

"I imagined you ignored the invitation."

"I would never."

Alice looked smug as she took in his groomed appearance unabashedly. "Look at this! _Someone _finally shaved."

"And got a haircut," he snorted, "thanks to you."

"Do you like the clothes?"

He looked down at what he wore: a stylish button-up with matching slacks. "Did I have a choice?"

"No," they answered together, laughing a little. His heart warmed at this generic yet special exchange. Some things never changed…

"Oh, here, let me," Alice said, helping Edward shrug off his humble – yet the best he could get his hands on – coat, swiftly folding and latching them onto her tiny arm.

Once more, he glanced around the place, learning the polished marble, the mixture of warm beige and cool white.

"Congratulations," he murmured politely, "It's a nice place."

"Thank you," she said, now smiles and excitement bouncing off her, "All of this means a lot to me."

He attempted to grin, though it needed more practice. "That's why I'm here."

The woman looked more like a little girl right now, cheeks flushed and high with color. She motioned towards the marble doorway that led inside where the true chamber lied, "Coming in?"

"Of course."

* * *

He thought only the small lobby was sweltering with heat, just to accommodate the incoming visitors with a good impression. It came to be that the crush of the crowds made the main room equally hot. He stood by the slightly agape window, throwing back another glass of overindulged champagne. Usually, he remained abstinent from alcohol, but he decided tonight would be an exception because the drink calmed his paranoia and overdriven nerves.

He caught the sight of Alice craning her neck as she searched the room, and Edward immediately sidestepped into the thicker horde of people. Alice was the perfect host, but ironically, that was the exact reason Edward was ducking around, avoiding.

She had to babysit each and every one of these visitors, and Edward had no patience to be tailed along to face random guests that were curious as to who he was. Not to mention, an old lady offered him a drink… well, concocted a Fuzzy Navel for him. Edward knew that was his cue to flee.

He definitely shouldn't have come.

An exhausted line shaped his lips as he took another swig from his glass. He should leave now. He had come, gave her his congratulations, and stayed at least an hour. He had fulfilled his duty. On top of that, the heat was really getting to him and the noise of bad classical music was messing with his patience, aggravating his ears and quickening his pulse.

Alas, he should have known that threading through the crowd to the entrance was a stupid plan. Before he was even able to sidle through – undercover behind a passing couple – he was tackled by none other than Alice Brandon herself.

"I've known you for more than ten years," Alice murmured, clutching his arm like a vice, "Your tricks aren't tricky enough anymore."

Then he was being tugged away. "Alice," he hissed, "Where are we going?"

"I have someone you have to meet," she said automatically, too fast and too rehearsed.

"What?" He thought about it. "_What_? Alice, no! This is –"

"Trust me," she said with an assuring smile that didn't calm him at all, "She's no danger."

He groaned. "I'm no longer a pubescent boy you can toy around with. Besides, now's barely the time for me to search for a girlfriend –"

"Who said girlfriend?"

Edward grumbled but didn't have a clever comeback.

"Good" – she sighed – "I finally got you shut up."

* * *

Suddenly, Bella was annoyed. Alice had placed her in the middle of nowhere, promising to come back. But somehow, she'd either gotten lost in the crowd or forgotten all about her because she hadn't appeared again. Her friend practically abandoned her in this sea of uneasy glances. Left to her own devices, Bella stood there awkwardly, wringing her hands and smiling at strangers who'd breeze past her. They'd make her feel bad, though, as they ignored her and made indignant snorts.

She didn't know until now that her frizzy hair was _that _horrid.

She kept stumbling back, trying to stay out of the way. She should get back to where she was before, back against the wall, nearly hidden in the shadows…

Then the night became even more of an unbearable ordeal – even in the already-packed mixture of excitement for Alice and anxiety for herself – as her eyes took in Alice Brandon coming forward with a hand latched onto a form of a man.

Her heart nearly stopped when she caught a dreamy glimpse of bright green. In a slightly snug button up that attractively hung onto his shoulders and dark trousers, there he was.

There he was.

_He _was there, the man that had been haunting her every step, every minute, and every thought for the past month. Never in a million years would she have guessed that there was a chance _he_ might attend _this _party.

"Bella?" Alice called, head cocked to the side in curiosity.

Then he met her eyes in complete cooled-off cerulean ease… before that changed to red vigilance. The familiar handsome countenance brought a twist in her empty stomach. That moment, her skin that desperately needed a shower and a splurge of lotion was long forgotten, her feet that had started to hurt from the high heels she'd managed to strap on didn't ache so much, and her frizzy hair was the last thing on her mind.

Had it really been a few weeks ago that she gave him her scarf?

She felt like slinking away to disappear. When had she turned into such a coward?

The man had turned rigid, and at that, Bella's heart began throbbing in an erratic beat.

She couldn't speak, mouth agape. And then she whispered, "Lucifer."

* * *

Alice Brandon hovered between the two, gauche. Her scrutinizing eyes were ablaze and frenzied with a mix of burning inquiry and a form of vague elation.

"How… what?" Alice managed to say. Then she nodded slowly as if sharing a private thought with herself, absorbing. "Well… not exactly how I imagined to turn out… but I'll take it."

Bella and Edward stared at each other speechlessly, both panic-stricken.

The funny thing was that neither knew that both were.

"Did you plan this?" he threw at Bella s soon as Alice propelled away, out of sight and out of hearing range.

The voice was too familiar that it was as though that fateful day was only yesterday. Her brain was still having trouble processing the idea of _him_ standing right in front of her. She couldn't breathe, but somehow, managed to choke out, "You're…?" She shook her head wildly. "What are you doing here?"

That seemed like the most idiotic question there was. After all, just because he was what she conceived as Lucifer and a fallen angel, it didn't mean he wouldn't have friends… friends like Alice Brandon… friends with her own friends…

_Small world,_ Bella realized numbly.

Brow crinkled and face taut, he pointedly nodded to the scene behind. "Party."

"Oh," she let out asininely. Then she had to go and say, "But about last Christmas –"

He glared at her.

Bella shuddered but carried on, "I just wanted to say –"

"Excuse me, I have to leave."

Obviously, he hated her.

As the man turned and dissipated quickly into the dim lights, she still hadn't summoned any words to retort back. And to her dismay, she realized that his words cut her deeper than they should have.

Dazedness subsided, and new emotions kicked in. All tips of her body felt tingly, irate and highly bemused. She had been waiting for weeks to meet this man again, and she had let this opportune timing slip away.

She wasn't going to have that.

"Hey," she called, which people stared again. She ignored it this time. Quickening her steps, she caught up. "Hey!"

He moved as swiftly as a snake.

"Hey," Bella said the last time, beating him and blocking him.

His eyes showed his infuriation.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

Lucifer, thankfully, knew what the girl was talking about. "I don't need your apology."

"Look, I can see that you are… angry" – it was an understatement – "Honestly, I don't know why. I was only trying to be polite. You don't have to distance yourself –"

And then he was looking at her as if she was crazy – again.

She ignored his delinquent mask. "I wanted to help."

"What would you know? There's no need," he bit off harshly, scoffing and muttering something under his breath, "And I don't recall saying or hinting anything that said I was 'angry.'"

He was wrong. Even if he hadn't shown his anger before, he surely was showing it now. Honestly, Bella had no clue on how to respond to _that._ He sounded so final, so strong, so adamant…

"Still… I… really…" Her words didn't make much sense anymore.

Then suddenly, for a moment, the eyes of her fallen angel softened like the winter snow during blossoming springtime – with knowledge, wisdom, and blue. "Sometimes," he murmured, "the very best intentions have disastrous results."

Bella bit her bottom lip. _But it hasn't been my very best intention yet. I still have so much more, and you still have so much to see, hear, learn, feel, and –_

But before she even got the chance to open her mouth and start talking, he was moving away again. And like the other times before, she was chasing after.

Things looked successful when she caught up again… but that was until her heel got caught on the crevice between the granite blocks. Then Lucifer, unexpectedly, chose that same second to turn back. She faintly tripped – thank the Lord – and so she could have caught herself easily if he hadn't been blocking there like a stiff wall.

Her forehead touched his chest for the tiniest second before she righted herself.

He flinched away, though. She barely made contact, yet he was repelled. Just like last time. "Fuck, not again," he growled, taking a huge step away that blatantly advertised the fact that he was disgusted.

Her face turned redder than wine. "Sorry, I'll… I'll just –"

The man held up one hand over his head, fist clenched. "Go," he hissed.

She went.

* * *

The night started off gratingly, went on tiredly, and ended up disappointing. Bella knew exactly why.

When Alice met up with Bella later in the night, she wasn't pleased. The older woman shot her strings of endless questions, relentless and demanding. "How do you know him? Where did you meet him? What happened? What did he say? Where did he go?"

The questions were unnerving and vexing, but at least Bella got something in return: his name.

"Edward?" Bella echoed, mulling over. "Edward… Lucifer…"

Alice's eyes darkened as if she suddenly realized something. Her sparkly and inquisitive mood had evaporated. "Bella, please, how do you know him?"

Bella shrugged one shoulder, playing with the hem of her dress. "He's a stranger, Alice, really," she murmured, "It's a long story. Not worth your time."

"Honey, you have to understand," Alice started slowly, eyes beseeching, all clever and clandestine, "that he… Edward… he's hurt, and confused, and unselfish, and unfortunate, and… and…" – she dropped her gaze – "He's lost faith in humanity."

As stupid as it was, unnamed tears prickled in Bella's eyes. He may not realize, but she felt whatever pain he was going through. He may think she understood nothing, but she did – she understood everything. She had been right all along – he had been a distant shadow of her past.

"He has to be handled gently," Alice mumbled, seemingly to herself.

"Why did you introduce me to him?"

Guiltily, Alice clasped Bella's dangling hands. "You don't realize this, Bella, but you've touched many people's lives in ways they can only thank – and I am included in that category. Well, so, I was hoping…"

Bella understood. "But how do _you_ know _him_?"

Her smile was meek and frightening.

"Please, Alice," Bella pleaded, "It should be a simple question."

"I don't have a simple answer."

Bella didn't inquire further. Neither did Alice.

* * *

"Thanks for coming. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed tonight. Oh, yes, certainly. It was no problem! Oh, goodbye."

Bella stood several feet away from the entrance, idly watching her friend salute and send away the guests with the same charming grin that was on her face the entire night. She was still perplexed and shaken with what had happened the last hour and couldn't rein in the raging feeling that was thirsty and hungry to get to know _him_ better – even after all this.

She'd always been stubborn.

The night had gotten old when all people were dismissed, the sliver of the moon peeking through the clouds the only source of light. Bella was the last to embrace her childlike best friend, laughing quietly.

"You did amazingly." Bella tightened her shoulders into a firmer hug.

Alice followed her example. "Thanks for coming."

"You parents would have been proud of you."

The tiny woman dug her nose into Bella's shoulders. "I know."

"Okay, I'll go now." Bella pulled away with an amicable grin, "Have a good night, Alice."

"You too, Bella."

Even the lights of Alice's boutique were turned off as the girls parted their own ways. They waved at each other until they no longer found each other in the swallowing dark. As Bella strutted down, away and into wider main streets where many Seattleites were still mingling, she slid through towards the still-busy part of the town she parked her truck.

She reached for her keys and unlocked it. Then, Bella was so far into her mind, which was centered on Lucifer – no, _Edward_ – and him only, that she didn't hear the blaring of the horn or the loud squeal of the tires. The wailing of the car grew higher and louder, before it was too close for Bella to do anything but gasp – not even the time to scream – and sink into the metal of her Chevy.

A rough hand grabbed her by the upper arm and dress. She twisted at neck-breaking speed, and collided into her savior's front as the van swiveled, missing her truck by a literal inch, and squealed away as if the previous second was part of her imagination.

As if it wasn't about to kill her if she was still standing there.

The short silence that followed was deafening, and – "Oh, my God," Bella rasped out, eyes wide and slightly teary as her body vibrated with adrenaline.

"Be more careful, will you?" reproached the abrasive voice above her head.

Bella froze. She'd now discern the voice from anywhere.

Edward. Lucifer.

She couldn't seem to make her lungs work as she stood there, immobile, trying to collect herself. Blood still roared in her ears and everything was faint to her – even the cold grasp of his hands above her elbow. Then out of the blue, he clumsily released his hold on her appendage and the fabric around the waist of her dress.

Knees weak, Bella fell on her bottom, groaning, and scraped the back of her thighs against the noticeable crack of the asphalt. Good thing she was so out of it she didn't even bother to get mad at his tactlessness.

"Shit," he said lowly, all tough and masculine. He cautiously reached out for her arm and pulled her body back up. "Sorry."

She caught a whiff of generic soap as he backed away slowly this time, watching in case her joints gave off again. He jutted out his chin as he did so, timid. Was that expression a worried one?

"Thank you," Bella whispered when she had gotten over the stumbles and managed to catch her balance.

Edward didn't even give a small nod in acknowledgement. He just began to slink away, and so Bella had to go and stop him to give him her thanks again, this time with a feather touch on his arm –

He wrenched out her grasp, as if her hand was a white-hot rod.

Bella let out an upset and wrathful sigh before crossing her arms and heatedly flouncing away back to her truck.

Then she heard something – a low chuckle.

Legs shaking again – though not because of the former almost-accident but from the heartfelt sound – she turned, and wasn't disappointed at what she saw.

With the back of his hand on top his cherry lips, his forest-kissed eyes crinkled from the mischievous smile she'd dreamed of. He was happy and humored, even if it was for that one little second, and –

And it was beautiful.

Then he had to break reality as he hid himself from her again. He had turned his back on her, and talked over his shoulder so she only saw his profile, "You might want to check your stockings."

Before Bella could make a retort, he was absolutely gone.

That night when she arrived home and began undressing herself, she remembered his words. She decided to follow his advice, and checked her pantyhose. A blush – hotter than ever – scorched her ears and cheeks as she moaned in embarrassment at the vivid visual created in her head.

It must've been the moment when she landed on her bottom after the rescue. Bella Swan scowled – while still blushing red – and glared at the dark threads of her pantyhose that were tattered, ripped off, and undone.

While she wasn't able to figure out anything remarkable about Lucifer – but his name and his mysterious relationship with Alice Brandon – he'd already seen the back her thighs, entirely bare and available to his sober eyes.

* * *

_When he loves you, embrace it carefully and with honesty.  
__Because he has a fragile heart.  
__Because he has the heart that's been wounded countless times._

* * *

**I send this chapter earlier than I normally would (hence, in a hurry) in an attempt to amend the past six-month period I neglected this story. Does this make it up? I hope so. I don't want to lose any more of my readers…**

**So what do you think of this chapter? Is it moving too slowly? Confusing? Disappointing? Tell me what you think (and your guesses so far – just to make sure I'm foreshadowing the right way), because that's basically all that matters (: Oh, and I promise there'll be more ExB interaction later. I know the pace is kind of really slow, but I think that's how Edward in this story wants it.**


	4. His Chase

**As I send you this chapter, I'd like broadcast my thanks for **_**Enigma Lynn**_**, **_**patch138, LOVE IS A GIFT, **_**and **_**sujari6**_**. Reviews are love.  
****Saving Lucifer  
****CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

"Morning, Rosalie."

Startled, her gaze snapped sideways toward the man dressed in navy blue.

Garrett O'Brien, one of the senior-ranked security guards of the facility, speculated Rosalie's anxiety. "What's up with you this morning? You look a bit rickety."

"Just stressed," she replied in a subdued tone, eyes returning to where they were looking at…

The man followed her stare and – "Uh oh, not drooling over Royce King again?"

A very pretty blush that pleasantly contradicted her boyish manners spread across her cheeks as she cleared her throat. Ducking her face so that all Garrett was able to see was her ratty hat, she muttered an excuse to the accusation. She could hear her friend sigh at her, obviously not buying it, before returning to his position near the front desk.

Embarrassment didn't dissolve as quickly as she would have liked. Rosalie surveyed Royce King again, but this time through the corner of her eyes so Garrett wouldn't catch her again. Like a savage Neanderthal, she actually swallowed, her throat dry, at the sight of the handsome man. Oh, his hair, all feathery gold and perfectly groomed without a strand out of place, was the kind only an immaculate archangel would have… And his eyes! They were the gentlest blue, the picture of the clearest day and the waters of Hawaii… The hue was so valuable that she felt ashamed of her own pathos pair which was the similar shade.

Rosalie had admired his presence for some time now, and while she felt idiotic and guilty for praising a man other than Edward Masen – the Edward Masen she loved, the Edward Masen with debonair looks, and not to mention, the most charitable heart – her world simply became beautiful when Royce King was around. But sometimes she wondered why he never smiled, why he walked so stiffly, or why he seemed to act so difficult around others. Surely, he must be a perfect gentleman with those dashing looks… Maybe it was his cynical frown that pushed other coworkers away…

"Rose!"

The girl shrieked like a banshee, jumping and turning and lowering to her karate position in a millisecond. Workers of Masen Corporations spun toward the source of the sound and started at what they saw. Immediately, Rosalie straightened up and fidgeted with her clothes, and by then, the watchers just scowled and grumbled impolite words before resuming to hurrying across the colossal lobby again. Sighing then glaring, Rosalie hissed, "What the hell, Emmett!"

She swore this – Emmett McCarty was made of steel and iron and titanium and platinum and – just anything that could be considered as hard as diamond itself because… well, muscles couldn't be _that_ large, she was positively sure.

"What brought you here?" he chattered excitedly, stupidly oblivious to the girl's infuriation… like always, "Oh, not that I complain, you know…" he trailed off, simply settling with smiling at the end.

Rosalie cringed into her heavy sweater. This nineteen-year-old boy – a year younger than she – was hardly tolerable. He was very large, tall, and burly, and yet his mannerisms always made his bodybuilder physique laughable and almost ironic. Not to mention, he always made her all tingly and uncomfortable with that intense stare he'd have while they talked… Anyhow, like any other day, she didn't have time, and would do much greater things than to have tea and chitchat with this –

"Goober!"

The two's heads twisted toward Garrett.

"Oh! Sorry, Mr. O'Brien," Emmett apologized, lips twisting timidly, "I, uh, kind of had a –"

"Right. Traffic. I hear that everyday from you. Now stop bothering her and get changed. Time for work."

Embarrassed, the teenager replied his yea. Then, he faced Rosalie again with the biggest grin she ever saw. "Are you going to stay here longer?"

"No, I was just visiting," she answered stiffly, annoyed and blatantly displaying it for Emmett to see as she shrugged and reassembled her shoulder bag, "I have to get home before eight."

Dark eyebrows gathered into a line, his mustard eyes reading the numbers on his watch. "Uh… it's almost eight thirty now."

Her mouth went dry then.

Emmett scowled. "Do you seriously have a morning curfew? Wow, because I remember last week when you –"

Before he could finish his words, though, Rosalie vanished. He had barely seen her spin on her heels before flying away like the star athlete of the Olympics. Legs pumping crazily, she dodged men in monkey suits and uptight women in clacking high heels.

Emmett, riveted in the fluidity of her movements, waved a disappointed goodbye at her disappearing back. "Bye," he mumbled forlornly.

It kind of hurt his feelings – as girly as that sounded – that she didn't answer him, not that she was able to hear him in the first place. But on top of that, she hadn't even glanced backward to shoot him her pretty, idyllic smile – the one that would make his day.

Poor Emmett. Up until a second ago, he felt brave enough to ask the girl out for lunch.

"Maybe next time," Emmett mumbled to himself.

Yeah, next time – that was what he told himself yesterday too.

* * *

"You had my men running around the city after you all hour. I must confess myself… disappointed. I am beginning to wonder if you're questioning my authority."

Rosalie's stomach lurched.

"So, educate me. Have I been, perhaps, too _vague_ about the limits of your leisure time hours? Or was it a selfish blunder on your part – your daftness averting you from returning on time? Oh, I'm not so sure anymore, Rosalie, if I can still call your audacity commendable. Now, it seems, more or less… _pathetic_."

She winced and ducked her head low. "I'm sorry. It's just – I lost track of time, and…"

"Yes, my dear?"

She fell silent, powerless under the majestic glow and terrifyingly thorny voice this man had. So powerless… she always have been, even as a young girl… even when Edward –

"Is there more you want, my dear Rose? What is it? I told you I could give you the world, and yet you've declined it. Nonetheless, now, when I _have_ granted you the one pitiful thing you seemed to desire so desperately, you've repaid me with the one thing I don't put up with… I suspect that you are already well aware that I don't tolerate disloyalty."

She kept her mouth shut, hiding her angry balls of fists behind her back.

"And look at you, wearing a commoner's clothes! You're a beautiful girl like your mother, a beautiful girl from class. Why can't you try to be more refined? You're not a child anymore!"

"I'm sorry."

"I see that you've grown into a slippery girl… one that's terrified of me. Are you afraid, dear child?"

Her heart sank. "No," she stuttered.

He chuckled condescendingly, and she blushed out of anger and humiliation.

"I'll believe you… for now."

"I'm really sorry," she murmured.

"That's all you ever say." He pressed his pale fingers against his dark hair and waved a hand at her as if dismissing one of their servants. "Enough. Leave. I have no more patience left for you this morning."

She stood up. "I'm truly sorry. I won't disappoint you again."

As Rosalie backed up, she thought she heard a snort from the man. Her steps were stiff and robotic as she finally escaped the cold chamber, and when she managed to reach her room and close the door behind her, her legs gave away and she sunk down to the floor. As anger slowly climbed to her throat, she couldn't hold it anymore. She slammed a fist on the ground and fastened two rows of her teeth together. Dropping her head to her knees, she began to sob, drowning in dread. Nothing could save her… Nothing…

* * *

Hope sounded especially wonderful to Bella at the moment. There were many reasons for that. Even without those reasons, however, Hope itself had always been wonderful because it meant a chance for one person and a surge of pride for another. Hope stood against frustration and fear, yet held hands with courage and willingness. And right now, it definitely meant a chance for Edward and a surge of private pride for Bella… and she could also see the courage and willingness lurking nearby.

Because just like any Sunday morning, she was at the cathedral.

Because Edward happened to be there too, to her wild and curious but exciting surprise.

Because he was playing the organ.

Because he was playing the organ without any music in front of him… as if he knew every hymn by heart…

And most of all, because he was wearing her red scarf. Oh, definitely.

Although she was ecstatic, Bella felt somewhat leery as well because she was drawing blank as to how and why he was here at the head of the cavity, exhausting himself to praise the Lord. And why was it that it was _this_ cathedral? And why had he decided to volunteer to play for the services anyway?

But those didn't matter too much, because what she _did_ know was that he was here and that her prayers might actually be receiving a proper attention – that maybe, God was finally listening to her voice and fixing things one by one, little by little.

Lucifer might be salvaged.

And to another delightful surprise, Bella discovered that he was good with controlling and playing the organ – very, very good. There was no doubting it, especially since Bella had been hearing the former musician play over the years. Even though her ears were never musically trained, she bluntly knew that the job was too much of a burden for the poor man, always fumbling through difficult chords and not keeping in time. But this – Edward was extraordinary in his playing. His face looked peaceful too, eyes unfocused and seeing something invisible in the distance while playing fluidly… and that was something she never imagined seeing.

Service that day ended too quickly, as if the hour had been a jiffy. Bella suddenly felt ashamed that she had forgotten the decency to keep her eyes casted away from the organist for the entire sixty minutes term. Thank goodness he hadn't caught her…

"Captivating, isn't he?"

Bella blinked and slanted her gaze away from the man and toward Esme who had been sitting by her. "Who is?"

"Weren't you staring at the new organist?"

"Oh." She watched Edward standing and drifting to the shadows next to the empty pews, his eyes distant and thoughtful… "Yeah. Yeah, I was. He's very good."

"Oh, yes, he is. Not rusty in the slightest, that boy, even after so much time. I was surprised." The older woman's soft smile seemed to silently whisper an untold story. "He could've gone out on that path only if…"

"Could've?" Realization stroke Bella, and her heart kicked up a gear. "_You know him_?"

Mother Esme didn't make any indication of an answer, but that only confirmed it. Why was it that people around her already knew him? _How_ did they know him so well? Alice seemed reluctant to explain too…

"Even as a young boy, he was as talented as his father. Ah, but of course, Edward just had to be completely enamored by piano keys… It was a small disappointment to his father at first."

"I don't get it," Bella admitted, mind floating away and imagining Edward as a young boy with fiery hair, freckles, missing teeth… and a father. There was no reason to be fascinated by this brief account of his upbringing – it was as plain as any other – but she still was. As goofy as it sounded, the concept of her Lucifer being 'a young boy' once upon a time sounded absurd and unreal.

"Oh, Edward Sr. was a violinist, you see. He was more fascinated with violin than piano, and wanted his son to be too." Esme paused, as if she realized she had divulged too much. But after a measuring moment of staring coolly into Bella's eyes, as if they were the windows of her soul, she seemed to relax. "They were a great duo. They played here during the offerings all the time."

Bella's heart stopped for a second. Then she whispered, "He's a Catholic?"

"Was."

Never in her life did Bella imagine that the word 'was' could sound so punctual, so final, so conclusive… Overwhelmed and somewhat panicked, Bella examined the fallen angel again. How in the world could a fallen angel be a Catholic, a submissive soul completely devoted to God? Maybe she had it all wrong… But then –

"Then what _happened _to him?" Bella whispered.

"It's complicated," Esme replied mundanely.

Bella knew she had to tread the water lightly… cautiously… "How'd you find him?"

Mother Esme hummed softly.

"Yes?"

In the minute of silence, Esme cocked her head to the side. "Is something wrong, Bella?"

"No… Yes… I mean…" She swallowed, unable to speak. It took her a few moments when she confessed, "Esme, he's the one I've been talking about. He's that boy I wanted to help – Lucifer."

Bella watched Esme registering this new bit of knowledge very closely. The elder woman's expression shifted from its initial concern… to surprise… to speculation… to skepticism… and then to nothing. Bella wanted find the way to understand what thoughts this generous sage was having: An epiphany? A revelation? A flashback?

Esme's hazel eyes zeroed around Edward's neck, which was thoroughly banded in woven red filaments, a scarf that looked too feminine for a man to wear… "I see," she finally said.

Bella bit her lip. "I want to know what happened. Please, Mother Esme."

"He's a good boy… a very good person. He's almost too perfect to be a mortal. That's all I'm going to say." The aging lines near her mouth folded as she smiled at what seemed like a private joke, while her eyes turned mischievous. "Hmm, Lucifer indeed."

Bella almost groaned. Alice's ambiguity had been more than enough for her these past several days, and now Esme too?

"I must tell you though. Whatever you're planning for him, he's going to be really tough. He's not a flexible person, and not going to be changed easily… He's always been stubborn since he was a little boy."

"There's no such thing as impossible."

One side of Esme's lip tipped upward into a wiry grin. "I never said it was."

Bella frowned.

"But yes, it's close to impossible." Esme glanced at Edward, all elegant and wicked as he stood under the golden cross at the front of the grand hall. It was an irony – Satan gazing toward the heavens under God's holy symbol. "Oh, so very close."

* * *

The thoughts of Edward the Lucifer didn't leave Bella's head after that Sunday. As if he wasn't already in every thought she had, it was worse. It became her new habit to daydream about his past and to brainstorm a plethora of ideas that eventually turned to theories. His actions toward her after the service did no help to this newfound obsession too – he had openly ignored her when she tossed him a tentative word of greeting. She still remembered the shade of red that covered her from head to toe as he walked away.

But what really hurt her, though, was that it all became painfully obvious: he wasn't going to tolerate her anymore. After all, he didn't even give her the chance to stumble for words or argue that time. Now, Alice's bash night sounded incredibly ancient, a distant memory, as if that smiling boy she saw for the shortest second was all conjured-up imagination inside Bella's head… or possibly, a doppelganger.

And that was when she began to grudgingly accept the truth that even if Edward didn't hate her, he most definitely didn't want to talk to her… befriend her… spend time with her… or reveal himself to her.

It was funny that that ugly truth sent her heart aching, and that was when she came to a second realization. Reliving all three of short but pivotal encounters, she realized that the two decades of her life she spent schooling the English language had been wholly obliterated by this enigmatic boy with messy, bay hair. Oh, God, she had been acting utterly inarticulate – almost illiterate, for all he knew – in front of him in practically most of the conversations, stuttering, mumbling, and standing speechless.

Now, things were much more serious and complicated than just nudging Edward to the religion that could help him and possibly lead to a better life, and hoping and praying wasn't going to do. After all, he was basically already a Catholic. What Bella had to really sort out was the way to break that icy exterior to get a peek at his real substance… Oh, man, what was the real Edward like anyway? Curiosity was slowly undoing her, and next Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

It turned out to be that she didn't have to wait so long.

It was five day later, Friday, and almost midnight. She was returning home from her self-planned tour around Masen Corporations, which she was to start commuting on the returning Monday. Naturally, she had plotted to over-prepare herself, just in case. So the entire afternoon, Bella did exactly that, diligently learning the transportation routes using the subway and sidewalks and taking several glimpses into the magnificent building of dozens of stories and its workers.

_This is what I wanted since my first year in college, _Bella had to remind herself repeatedly with every bated breath, carefully going down the subway stairs. Nevertheless, she scowled at her swollen toes peeping out from her one and only pair of open-toe heels. Of course, the girl still did think it was a clever idea on her part to dress out of her casual wear and select something more formal because she had thought a few steps ahead and decided that she wouldn't be able to resist to take a minute-long field trip inside the facility once she got there. It turned out to be, though, it was not so clever to change that minute-long field trip into a five-minute-long trip… and before she knew it, she spent two, solid hours in there. _Dreams hurt. Ah, my toes hurt. Stupid. I should've worn wedge heels…_

By the time the girl reached the platform, she almost gave up under the torture of her shoes and ripped them off her feet. She didn't, however, when she came across a large, rectangular mirror against the grimy walls that showed her entire length. Limping to a stop, she gazed carefully into the mirror, deep in thought.

Sentimental – that was what it was. Wearing nice, fancy clothes – classy business attire that'd been ironed and placed deep inside her close for years – and standing like this, she felt her pride soar.

Internship at Masen Corporations. She really did it, didn't she?

Simply thinking of that title and her internship at such large company made Bella feet better and no longer tired, famished, or sore near the calves.

Her lips curved up into a smile, broad and young at heart, as she adjusted her outfit and stood tall. _I'll be wearing something like this almost everyday for the next several months. Alice was right. Every woman really should thank the anonymous who invented heels – at least for one, I look much taller. And it's not _that_ uncomfortable… if they're wedge heels. Oh, well. I should just get used to it now, or –_ Bella's eyes lost their focus on her body and zoomed in on something else…

A flash of ghastly viridian.

Her body froze on the spot, legs stationary and feet glued to the floor, frightened and inquisitive simultaneously. _What was that? I think I just made eye-contact with someone…_

It was late and dark, but it was still a Friday night. The train station was bumbling with a reasonably thick crowd, drunk and sober, young and old. She could've met eyes with just about anyone, the possibility infinite.

Bella knew it was stupid, and yet, she used the mirror to sift and scan through the suspects, desperately searching and wanting to find the person more than anything else in the world for some strange reason. Her brown eyes sought anxiously for the source of that wild, spectral neon. When she finally did, though, she still could just barely see, the person hidden behind the throng.

Glimpse. Glimpse.

Bella craned her neck slightly, trying to piece the bits of glimpses together into a bigger picture.

Glimpse. Glimpse.

People wove in and out, and she still could only see him in stripes… spectrums… broken pieces... She could faintly see the outline of a man… There was a big, navy sweater… ailing, undernourished cheekbones… haggard shoulders… khaki eyes… the frown… _oh, my, that frown…_ exceptional, roan tufts… fair fingers caressing the chin… o_h, those fingers!_

Pianist's fingers – no, organist's fingers! The ones she adored watching as they brought the organ to life last Sunday…

The swooshing sound of the train growing louder and louder suddenly captured Bella's attention. She knew she didn't have much time. And even after the train fully stopped and its doors slid opened – her view obscured again – she simply stood where she was, unmoving and waiting for something she wasn't sure what with a furiously pumping heart. Meanwhile, everyone on her side of the platform got on the compartments. She was alone.

With a boisterous sound, the train picked up its pace again, disappearing back into the tunnel and out of sight and hearing distance. Then, her patience was rewarded with the vision of him again – much clearer and void of distractions_._

Bella had seen him in many states of emotions through the few happenstances – confused, enraged, vulnerable, aloof, suspicious, inquiring, moved, peaceful, humored… This time it was none of those – something entirely new; it was different – oh, so very different. Her entire universe repainted anew, seeing him with _that_ guise. To any other normal person, he only had his eyes slightly narrowed into jade glints, lips barely agape, and a rigid countenance. To them, it was just another introspective demeanor. But to Bella – to someone who understood Lucifer and was passionate enough to help – she thought that maybe… just maybe he was –

"He's crying," Bella whispered inaudibly, lips barely grazing against each other.

Lucifer was crying, staring right into her. He was crying in that familiar way she knew where no single tear was shed… wasn't _allowed_ to be shed… a cry so silent, so parched, so agonizing, so heartbreaking… Bella knew that cry very well – the way few people cried… the _only_ way for them because they had no other choice but to sustain their emotions to survive in this harsh world.

A train arrived in his platform, disconnecting their joining of the eyes.

That rare cry that never allowed a tear… something she never imagined to see again…

With every frantic beat of her heart, something sprouted deep inside her core… Hope, she recognized again. _Will he wait for me too? Will he not get on the train just to see me again?_

It was then that she discovered the essence of her pristine hope – for the first time since she was fourteen, she wanted someone to wait. For her and her only.

His train began to speed away – as did her beating heart – and in seconds, its whistles and moving wheels disappeared altogether, just like the train that had left her own platform. By then – as if the powerful spell that was put on her was now finally broken – Bella was able to turn and now directly face the other side.

Her stomach dropped.

Nobody. No sight of gleaming, shiny pair of green apples. Bella had waited for him, but he hadn't waited for her.

_Ring, ring, ring, ring._

He didn't wait for her…

_Ring, ring, ring, ring._

Hope: crushed.

_Ring, ring, ring, ring_

"Hello?" Bella answered her phone, voice low and gravelly from abiding disappointment.

"Is this… Ms. Isabella Swan?"

Sighing, Bella leaned against the wall, her eyes latching lifelessly onto her blistered toe. "Yes, this is she."

"We're calling from the police department. We have Ms. Mary Brandon here with a man. She had a brawl at a nightclub earlier this evening, and is still pretty drunk at the moment… We'd like it if someone could come pick her up instantly."

At the news, she straightened up and cleared her throat. Bella began pacing around, her fingers tucking her hair behind her ear again and again. "Is she okay? What's going on? What happened? A man? What was he doing to her? Hello? Officer?"

"Err… not quite, miss. They were fighting over… what was it, Ms. Brandon?" Bella briefly heard the squeaks and screams of her best friend from the other line. "Oh, right. They were arguing about the last Harry Potter book."

* * *

"Oh, really?" A scoffing laugh caught in the man's throat. The blond man had been sprawling comfortably on the chair with two hands behind his head, but now straightened up and leaned forward with a wry smirk. "What exactly is wrong with you? Here I thought that you were some crazy Amazon lady, emotionally attached to a witless fictional character and piddling and laying out at a bar –"

Alice could hear the buzz roaring in her ears.

"– when in reality, you're just a moronic little gnome with the mind of an adolescent."

"Okay, that's it, Mr. Uppity," Alice screamed at the top of her lungs, being held back by two pairs of massive arms of police officers. Her legs were furiously kicking at the air as she shot a scathing glare. "You have no right to insult me –"

"Mr. Uppity? Seriously, doll?"

Alice's shriek was deafening, as everyone recoiled at the sound. "Who the hell said Southern guys are gentlemen?"

His eyes darkened. "And I thought a Yankee was supposed to be tolerable."

She erupted. "You know, you should've just minded your own business! Who are you to butt in if I feel a special bond with the Harry Potter books anyway, huh? Huh? Huh? And you totally killed my buzz! Stealing my drink? _My_ drink! And practically _tackling _me in the middle of the dance floor? Ha!"

His smirk grew as the little Seattle woman continued ranting.

Her breath hitched in her throat – in a bad, angry way – as she saw the aggravating shift of his face, and so more incomprehensible words began to spill out of her mouth.

"Careful there, little girl, you're walking on a slant."

"I am not!"

"You are too."

Mr. Uppity was right, in all honesty. With face puerile and rosy pink, sleepy eyes, warm skin, buzzing ears, and the frequent brain shutdowns, yep, Alice Brandon was certainly drunk.

"Alice!"

Eyes moist, the twenty-six-year-old beauty pouted and almost sang with joy as she saw her brown-haired friend by the entrance door. "Bella," she gushed, "you came!"

"What in the world did you _do?_" Bella hissed, fidgeting with the ends of the frills of her blouse as she quickened her steps to come stand by her friend's side.

"Just get me out of here," mumbled Alice, sniffing and ducking her head.

It was humiliation, worry, and panic altogether. Alice Brandon wasn't someone who would do whatever she was doing now; this woman was not the kind to go out and get into arguments at a random bar. Regardless, at the moment, the black-haired woman was so drunk that by the looks of it, it was as though she couldn't seem to bring herself to sit without twisting every other half second.

Bella patted the ink hair of her older friend as she asked the second time, "What did you do, Alice?"

She sighed very loudly, crossing her arms and glaring at something in front of her. "I finished the last Harry Potter book this afternoon, and found out that my Remus Lupin dies at the end."

Eyebrows furrowed, Bella asked, "And?"

Alice's little body jolted upward, glowering at Bella so fiercely it almost left a burn. "What do you mean '_and_?' Bella, he was my favorite character out of the entire series!"

"Okay… so you ended up hostage at a local police station because you were upset about a fictional character's death and got drunk for it…" Bella prodded on Alice with the slow nods of her head.

Alice bobbed her head feverishly like a little girl who was glad she was winning over a friend to her side in a playground territory quarrel, face blooming into a wondrous grin. "And this heartless jerk made fun of my favorite werewolf!"

"What? Who –" Bella turned to the way Alice was pointing, confused, and –

Oh.

"Are you –?"

"Jasper Whitlock, ma'am," the man greeted, smiling in a perfectly polite manner.

Next to Bella, she heard Alice snort.

Even at very first glance, Bella simply knew he was from the South – she simply anticipated his voice was going to sound honey-like sweet and thickly coated with the singsong Southern accent.

"Uh, Bella," she introduced as well, though she had no reason to. Damn, Jasper Whitlock had the charisma. "I'm Alice's…" – she had to think about it – "… guardian."

He laughed pleasantly, and Bella felt her own lips twitch. _Alice would never get in an argument with this man_, she concluded. He was the kind of man who was stretchy tall and naturally tough, as if his body was composed of only lean muscles and lengthy bones. His face was shaped into a soft square, and his presence completely and visibly exuded that he was the absolute epitome of 'experience' itself. Although not intimidating, his body was inked with different kinds of interesting tattoos that would tire any onlooker's eyes when they try to follow each intricate pattern, and had few modest piercings. This attractive man was no doubt a unique individuality – all of bohemian, Texan cowboy, and James Dean in perfect equilibrium, as odd and horrid as that might sound.

"So you and Alice…" Bella trailed off.

"The brawl," one of the police officers explained lazily. Bella only just noticed that he and his coworkers had a firm grip on Alice's shoulders, holding her down – they might as well tie the lady to the chair too…

"The brawl," Bella conceded, snorting, "Well, I'm very sorry, Jasper. My friend usually doesn't get this drunk, and –"

"What in God's name are _we_ apologizing for?" Alice interrupted loudly. Oh, that scathing look she was giving the poor man could melt off his face in a couple of seconds. "He was _rude_ to me!"

"All right, all right. Hush, you." Turning to the officers, Bella gave each of them a small smile. "I'm sorry. May we leave now?"

"Oh, please do," one of the officers said too cheerfully, "Just sign the paperwork, and we'll gladly let you leave."

The bohemian soul covered his slightly bearded mouth, snorting and chuckling. "This fellow here has been quite a handful to these officers." Amusement trickled his words. "You have an interesting friend, sweet Bella."

"Stop testing me, you evil spirit!" Alice snapped, kicking again, though her legs were too short and weak to formulate the intended jab. If someone should hand her a bowl of holy water, she'd splash it on the hapless cowboy's ass without missing a beat.

"I was talking to your _friend_, little girl," Jasper said breezily.

"May I ask what you did to get her this angry?" Bella asked, laughing along and hence earning a glare from her drunken friend, "Or should I ask what _she_ did to _you_?"

Jasper turned his face to the side of his cheek that was just beginning to sully into a bruise.

Bella winced, comprehending. "Alice hit you?"

He wore a clandestine smirk. "Don't ask."

When the paperwork was signed and done, the three were kicked out of the police department facility by the overly joyful officers, even waving a goodbye. Bella would never forget that gleeful smile each and every one of them wore as they watched Alice Brandon, the night's troublemaker, step out the entrance. Hopefully, Alice wouldn't make a second trip ever again.

"I'm going to tell you right now," Alice grumbled, tucking in her chin and burping deep in her chest, "I never, _never_ want to see your sorry face again! You got that, Mister?"

"Alice," Bella hissed, nudging the black-haired woman's ribs.

"We wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't been bumbling around the bar like a lunatic. You were in my way," Jasper pointed out calmly.

That was Bella's cue to try to placate her provoked friend, who was now officially trying to scoop out the poor man's eye.

It made a farcical contrast – Jasper Whitlock standing at ease with one eyebrow with the silver stud raised in a flawless arch, while the fierce, girly doll transformed into a Godzilla. All the while watching the struggle of two girls in front of him, his eyes stayed suspicious, exhausted, and apparently incredulous. He cocked his head to the side, wavy blond hair touching the cowboy handkerchief around his neck. "The least you can do is thank me, little girl. I've done many things for you tonight."

Alice had to resist the urge to scream – probably what this Jasper Whitlock was waiting for with that every-present smile – as her features darkened. "Oh, I'm sorry, so was I supposed to thank you for tackling me?"

"So I take it's my fault you were lumbering around like a loon?"

"Is it a crime to walk around in a club?"

"It should be, especially if you're a gal who looks too young to be of drinking age."

"I'm twenty-six, you dumbass!" Alice ranted, fiery and yet still managing to look glorious in her rage.

"– who looks like a brainless teenage lassie. Girl, do you have any idea what you'd be doing right now –"

"You stole my drink too!"

"Oh, please."

Blood boiling, Alice spat out, "Remus Lupin! You offended my idol too!"

An unusual yet familiar spark of annoyance flickered through him, his tattooed fists clenching into balls. His chest heaved up and down as he tried to press down his anger. _Not here, Whitlock, stay cool._ "You seriously can't be angry about me being honest with your unhealthy werewolf obsession."

_Uh oh, _Bella thought, eyes swiveling between the two faces in the argument like watching a tennis ball bounce from one side of the court to another. She'd been standing there, haltingly watching, knowing that she wasn't in the position to budge in. But now, Bella wasn't so sure if she should continue to stay put because she could have sworn she heard the gnashing of Alice's teeth… and that was never a good sign.

"I came out to drown my sorrows for Lupin tonight, and you ruined it!" Shifting and stepping closer to her target, Alice redoubled, jabbing a finger into his chest, "Next time you want to pick up a girl, do us all a favor and try not to be a complete jerk! And while you're working on that, don't ever tackle her in the middle of the bar, steal her drink, and most definitely, do _not_ offend her favorite werewolf! Do you –" Alice suddenly stiffened, her hands flying to her face to cover her mouth. Then she spun to the side at the last millisecond, almost whacking the Southern gentleman on the face with the back of her head, before –

"I knew she was out of kilter after that sixth martini," was all Jasper said as he watched Bella Swan huddling near Alice and the puddle of bile, "Hang in there, little girl, I think I saw a mop inside the police station."

* * *

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus, I cannot believe this." Jasper rubbed his eyes tiredly, carding a restless hand through his blond locks. He had just finished cleaning up the pool of vomit and realized he now reeked of it. "Tonight's not my night."

"You don't deserve to say that," Alice mumbled. It was a miracle she still had the energy to glare with her bloodshot eyes and make a sassy comeback with her sour-tasting mouth.

"Take this," he murmured, producing a baby pink candy and offering it.

Alice observed it and scrunched up her nose. "Medication, really? You're really trying to poison me now?"

"For the love of God," he deadpanned, incredulous, "it's only an antacid. Shit like this neutralizes the stomach after hurling."

Alice didn't move.

"He's trying to help you." Bella leaned onto her knees to get a closer look at Alice who was sitting on the ground, exhausted and ill, "Take it, Alice."

She didn't. "Bella, don't you think it's a little suspicious that a person carries around an Antacid in his pocket?"

Rolling his eyes, Jasper came down from his height to forcefully shove the pink stuff into her mouth, ignoring the moans and protests without difficulty. Afterward, he stood back up and brushed off his pants. "I wish I can say I have more of that, but that one's my last." He checked his watch and pursed his lips. "I have to get going now, actually."

"Oh." Bella straightened up also, and grinned wanly, more exhausted than she was before. "Thank you, Jasper. And I apologize for my friend for whatever crazy thing she might've done…"

"'S fine, sweet Bella." One hand in his worn-out jean pockets, he twisted his neck down to see the woman at his feet again. He wore a wiry, ironic expression, a halfway point between a smile and a scowl, as he ordered, "Don't brush your teeth for another hour no matter how foul your mouth tastes like… well, unless you want the acids to be pushed in further. Finish off the Antacid slowly, and" – he fished out a new water bottle from his rucksack and gave it – "try to drink as much water as your stomach can handle. You're probably very dehydrated."

Alice blinked, and then narrowed her eyes. "I know the 'drinking a lot of water' part –"

"When you return home," Jasper overlapped her complaints effectively, "eat some saltine crackers or other dry, slightly salty breads with some carbonated drink – nothing sweet, though. That should settle the upset stomach, and please – _rest._ I think it's safe for me to say that I know enough of you after tonight that you're not the gal who likes to stay still, but do try. Oh, and when you feel better, eat something with potassium… like bananas or tomatoes. That'll help balance the electrolytes."

"I don't like bananas or tomatoes," Alice deadpanned.

"Too bad then" – he shrugged nonchalantly – "not my detriment if you die off from potassium deficiency, is it?"

Bella had to stifle a giggle, and Alice glared at both of them equally. She seemed to do that a lot tonight.

Rubbing his neck, he began to walk away backwards. "Bye, little girl, try to be good now. Bye to you too, sweet Bella."

"I hope you have a nice life, idiot."

"Bye, Jasper. Thank you."

"Hate him," Alice spoke from the corner of her lips, eyes glued onto the form of Jasper Whitlock drifting away farther and deeper into the staid darkness.

"All right, that's enough from you tonight. You've made enough trouble, hussy." Bella sighed, cracked her knuckles, and helped her friend up to her feet. "It's time to get you home."

* * *

"I have some bad news."

Jesus Christ. How much more bad news would he be able to take? It's been _years, _for crying out loud.

"Continue." A steely edge tinted Edward's voice.

"He's been last spotted at a shabby café couple of miles outside Chicago… He's still playing, I think, constantly moving from place to place." The caller sighed. "I'm sorry, Edward. We lost him again."

Edward Masen coiled into a ball at the bottom of the cathedral steps, his withered hand raking the pile of bronze leaves that was his skein and sighing so deeply his breath nearly wore the dirt away from the ground. A muddy puddle between his legs casted a reflection of his face, catching his misery flawlessly. The man he saw was all dark and fair at the same time, his skin the shade of an elephant's tusk while his eyes held the contamination of disgusting black of the brutality that was about to break free from him…

The voice from his phone continued, "He's been moving around much more often recently. It's almost unpredictable."

The twenty-three-year-old man felt he could be at least fifty, his body turning lax from disenchantment. He had to give himself a minute to collect his thoughts and emotions, but even when he did, he realized it didn't do any good.

"Edward? Are you there?"

"Yes" – he cleared his throat to get rid of the husky tone – "I… so… how are we going to find him again?"

"I'm working on it. I don't know how long, but…"

The term of silence that followed echoed the hopelessness of the situation, and his hand tightened around his cell phone, as did his scornful smile around his cheeks. "No matter what, I don't want you to feel guilty about not being able to overcome some of the roadblocks we face. You're a wonderful woman, and you've already done so much for me. Thank you for everything."

The caller paused for a long time. "It's the least I can do."

"Edward?"

Gingerly, Edward raised his head to face God's golden messenger in satin white and red before him. Edward muttered into his phone a quick goodbye and a promise that he'll call back in a moment, when all the while, his stare remained inert on the blue eyes – the eyes that were full of mischief yet so piercing...

Carlisle Cullen's forehead wrinkled as he knit his flaxen brows. "You didn't have to dismiss your call for me."

Rising from his sitting position, he answered stiffly, "It was private."

"Then I'm sorry."

Edward let out a giant sigh. "Just what the hell do you want?"

The Catholic priest sighed as well – but out of sadness – and reached out to put a hand on the young man's shoulder… only he flinched away with a glare. Carlisle acted like he didn't notice. "It's been years. I thought you might want to talk."

"No," Edward bit off quickly, climbing up one more step on the stairs for some distance, "No, I don't."

"Son –"

"Stop," he cut off. Taking in a shuddering breath, he went on, "I'm sick and tired of this. I saw the look you gave me all afternoon, Carlisle. Listen, you've been nothing but generous to me since the moment I could remember you, but I'll have to be honest now – I didn't come back here for the reason you think I did. I'm here for Rosalie and Rosalie only. She's twenty, and yet still trapped under the confines of – … She needs me right now, and… I'm going to do everything to protect the one person I love."

Under the January sky, the two contrasting men stood in the chilly silence. The blond was warm, glorious, and peaceful in his stance, as did the bronze-haired man but in two noticeably distinct ways. Sure, the younger lad also appeared at ease himself – if one didn't notice the slight ticking in his jaw and the tension in his body as if he was ready to spring up any moment and make a run for it.

"So you do love her," the priest retorted at last.

Edward's eyes flashed. "Of course I do."

Carlisle smiled, and Edward realized his mistake a second too late – he had admitted his personal emotions aloud, something he swore he'd never do.

"Look… I don't want to give you false hope just because I'm behind the cathedral doors again. I'm playing the organ only because…" Of course he still didn't know the answer to that either – not yet. Frustrated, he groaned. "Just… I don't know, okay? But – but it's not because of my renewed belief in – in –"

"I know."

Edward's teeth snapped shut, fists that were clenched relaxing. "What?"

Carlisle Cullen had always been a reasonable yet incomprehensible man to Edward Masen since their first meeting. A mentor, a friend, a father-like figure, this man with aging blond hair had made him cry one moment then laugh the next. He had helped the nine-year-old Edward read the entire Bible, saying all he had to read was a single page everyday; he had given the shelter the confused sixteen-year-old Edward needed; he had went down to his knees and gathered his hands millions of times to pray for the redemption of sins of the eighteen-year-old Edward made. This Catholic pastor with deep laugh lines even taught Edward how to bake the most delicious cookies in the world. All Edward's life, Carlisle was there, one way or the other.

Now, Edward Masen was a twenty-three-year-old adult and Carlisle Cullen was a graying senior with a bulging stomach. It was finally that time where the older man became trounced under the stealthy youth, fire, and muscles of his former favorite boy who used to be God's reincarnation of an angel. However, although time had passed, some things never changed.

One, though Edward Masen didn't know – and declined to be brave enough and accept the truth – he still needed the warmth of the neutrality and compassion Carlisle Cullen offered.

Two, Carlisle Cullen will remain Carlisle Cullen, untouched by the tick of the clock. And for that reason, he will perpetually possess the regal power Edward will not have. He'll forevermore make Edward feel like the kid caught in the middle of the night, sneaking cookies. He'll always have those brilliant blue eyes that see through all of flesh, bones, blood… and mind.

"What are you up to, son?"

Edward's eyes turned into slits. "That's none of your business."

Thin lips stretched up into a smile of a father watching his son making an unconvincing lie. "You might be surprised at how much I know. I'm an old man who has devoted more than half his life praying and praising the Lord, but I'm not quite that obtuse."

Face pink with irritation, Edward skirted around the priest and spat at the ground next to his shoe. Without looking back, he headed toward the entrance gates.

"Are you going to run away again, Edward?"

His steps faltered.

"You can run away as much as you want, but one day, you'll bump into the final wall where you won't be able to do even that. By then, you'll have nothing more to turn your back on. Trapped and lost –"

"Stop."

"– you won't have another place to go… or the ability retrace your steps even if you want to. Everything will be too late."

"Stop it!"

"Don't be a coward."

"I said stop it!" he shouted brokenly. Seeing red and flustered, Edward marched back until he was facing the seraph again.

Their eyes met in a silent clash, fiery and challenging yet gentle and imploring. Although the noble angel still remained tranquil, it didn't quite reach his eyes anymore. However, that didn't make him weak enough to flinch away from the cold, green fire the youth wore. Instead, he merely held his ground and stood strong with his old feet.

"You're looking for your father."

"I thought I had this straight, but I guess I was wrong," he whispered fiercely, green eyes millimeters away from blue, "You stay out of this. I don't know what you heard or who you heard it from, but I want you to know that I'm in my life completely alone. I don't need you, Rosalie, Alice, Esme – _anyone._ So don't give me that pitiful look and try to help me out of this living hell" – his face iced over, the demon overcastting his features, challenging the kindness of the angel – "'cause it – won't – work."

"You can't continue this vagabond's way of life. One day, you'll have to stop. I know that you know this," Carlisle coaxed, "Your life can't be this way forever, Edward. I won't let that."

A chuckle escaped his throat but it didn't quite sound amused. Edward's face twisted into a sour, malevolent smirk, and Carlisle had to contain his sigh. Oh, this boy had turned into something completely different…

"I have no future," Edward whispered bleakly.

"Yes" – Carlisle paused – "because if you live in the past, you can never move forward."

"You disgust me," Edward lashed out.

"At the end, you'll end up destroying your own soul, Edward. The past is the past. You don't want to dwell there too long to lose focus on reality" – Carlisle didn't want to use this card, but he didn't seem to have any other choice – "just like Elizabeth."

Edward's heart stopped before pummeling into a mad-dash race. "Don't mention her name in front of me," he disrupted primly, face pale and grisly.

"There's always the fear of not being able to grow. You must overcome that fear, forgive yourself, and move on –"

"But I _can't_ run and excel like you expect me to," the younger man interrupted, voice and eyes much more soft-hearted now as he laughed darkly, "I'm sorry, but it's true. I'll never be able to run. People tell me that all I have to do is put forth my best effort. They say that that way, I'll fly, but all of it is a big, ugly lie. There are birds out there, for Christ's sake, that fall while flying! No one wants to fly, Carlisle. All it means is that while no one wants to, they would rather do that than to be left alone, abandoned, broken…" He shook his head fiercely to clear his head. "They don't want to be left lying on land while everyone moves on and joins the clouds. Everyone only tries to fly… and ends up faking it."

When Carlisle had no answer, Edward disconnected the eye-contact, slightly embarrassed and apologetic in a strange, masochistic way. As he began to walk away again, though, he heard the feathery voice once more, the sound as clear and memorable as the bells of Notre Dame.

"History might repeat itself, but people can never go back to the past."

Edward closed his eyes. He knew that. Only, he couldn't let go of his past no matter what. He was incapable of moving on… and such an undeserving, selfish demon wearing the mask of a human like himself wanting such relief was blasphemous.

"Live, dear boy, and there'll be something good you'll get out of it. I can promise that, Edward."

"I don't need promises. Promises mean nothing. Every promise, at the end, is left broken." _Just like every one of mine._

And then he walked away – away from Carlisle Cullen and away from the cozy orange of Hope, heading it off by the sharp glaciers of his heart before the seed could be properly watered.

* * *

_When the Demon loathed the Angel, even the Angel couldn't smile._

* * *

**Wow, long chapter. Hope I didn't bore you… or too many things at you all at once, lol. At least most of the major characters are properly introduced, right? More confusion? I hope so, heh. ****So which character intrigues you the most? Each has their own special story :)**


	5. Collision

**It's amazing what reviews could do to a writer. And that is why **_**you**_** are also amazing: **_**sujari6, Enigma Lynn, caseyrant**_

**Saving Lucifer  
****CHAPTER FIVE**

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* * *

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Bella flung herself through the revolving doors. Losing part of her balance, she wobbled her way in and bumped into a man. At her clumsy performance, several people stared.

"So sorry," she mumbled before scuttling away.

Bella Swan had always been sensitive to both humiliation and attention, and this morning was no exception. Sighing, she cut through the traffic of crisscrossing workaholics and began to doubt herself – will she survive? But she banished that thought as quickly as it had been approached. It was never good to downplay yourself on the first workday.

After what felt like walking through the gateway to Hell, she found herself standing in front of a clean-cut desk in the awkward center of the foyer.

"Hello," Bella greeted through the corner of her lips. _No need to be nervous,_ she reminded herself.

The receptionist was very pretty. It occurred to Bella just now that her existence stood out in the crowd, donned in a modest white shirt and gray jeans. If the rest of the women in this place were as swanky as the ones in the lobby, Bella would willingly climb into a rat hole and admonish herself for her poor sense of style.

Eventually, Bella decided that these women were not only beautiful but also tough and intimidating. The receptionist – her nametag said Gianna – was acting rather rudely, though Bella knew she wasn't doing so intentionally. Gianna's eyes remained plastered onto her computer screen the entire time Bella was speaking, and when she did finally look up, the flat look was scary enough to send Bella hurriedly squeeze-dry her damp hair and brush off the snowflakes on her shoulders that looked like dandruff.

"Demetri Hansen? Are you certain?"

Confused, Bella dug out the notes she had jotted down on her post-it. "Yes, but I was also told that Eleazar Sanchez will be my other supervisor."

"We've been expecting you." Gianna looked to the side and whistled loudly. "Emmett!"

The most boyish-looking one out of the three standby security guards came over strutting with a sigh. "Jesus, you've got to stop doing that whistling thing as if you're assembling a dog…"

Gianna pretended not to notice – or maybe she really didn't, since she seemed too busy staring at Bella… "Go to the Marketing Department and drop her off."

Emmett gave Bella the nod as he led her toward the elevators, and she tailed behind him like a worthless puppy. Once they were behind the elevator doors, he began talking.

"What's your name?" he asked, after jabbing one of the floor numbers.

Bella, who was in the middle of fixing her mascara-smudged eyes without a mirror, blushed. Eyes wide, she timidly pointed to herself in question.

He smiled an awkward – but polite – grin. "Who else?"

"It's Bella." Her lips tipped up into a smile, thankful for his attempt at kindness. "And you're Emmett?"

He cracked a humiliated smile, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. "I guess Gianna made quite an impression on you, huh?"

Bella snorted, remembering how Gianna truly did summon him as if he was her pet.

"And it's going to be okay, you know."

Bella's eyebrows rose.

"You don't have to be so nervous." His eyes flashed down to her trembling fingers before looking back up at her face. "Trust me. This place isn't as bad as it looks."

Embarrassed, Bella quickly hid her fingers away from his view. Smiling wanly, she stammered, "This is technically my first real job."

"Ah," he hummed, and his reaction seemed genuine. Apparently, he needed no more explanation. "Well, that means you already have a solid foot in the door – serving the Volturi and all, no matter how small your part is."

_The Volturi?_ "This company offers a lot."

"Certainly." He flashed a row of white teeth – again, genuine and kind. "If you prove yourself worthy here, you're pretty much worthy anywhere."

Bella's stomach roiled.

"A bit of advice, though," he started, scanning her from head to toe. "You should wear your hair up if you want to look older. I'm not going to lie – people here kind of overwork the younger ones… especially interns."

"Fabulous," Bella muttered.

Emmett laughed. "Well, that and also because your hair's kind of wet."

_I'm toast._ Even a random security guard guy knew more than she did about this company and this world of competition. She could picture the tragedy already – she was going to break her ankles because of the death traps she had put on, mess up the copy machine to the point of no return with her clumsy fingers, make a bad impression on her boss, type up misspelled emails, and –

She was going to fail.

_The hair,_ Bella suddenly reminded herself. _Fix the hair._

Instantly, she jumped into action and stacked her hair up as neatly as possible."Is this all right?"

"Better." He smiled. "Except you might look as if you put too much gel getting ready this morning."

At that, Bella's mouth curled upward.

Her last few seconds of sanity in the elevator were spent smoothing out her rumpled chiffon shirt underneath her coat and chanting praise to herself to gain at least the smallest bit of confidence.

_You are sophisticated. You are fast-thinking, and can easily keep pace with these people. And you will be perfectly fine in those heels. They won't take you down or even wobble your feet. Composed. Elegant. Professional – yeah, definitely professional –_

Oh, she never said they were working, though.

"You look pale," Emmett pointed out.

Of course she did. This had been her dream since forever, and now, it was so close she could taste it. Bella could only hope it was worth it and that she would _finish _it off properly.

The elevator dinged at last. Its golden door slid open, and there it was: a long hallway of stark white walls with workers of the floor flying past by and disappearing into different rooms.

"Welcome to Masen Corporations," Emmett announced.

"Thank you."

"Oh, don't sound too eager," he teased. "Now if you'll follow me…"

Clack, clack. Clack… clack.

Emmett twisted over slightly to examine her sleek shoes. "You're not used to those, are you?"

"Can you tell?"

He shrugged.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Bella tried her best to take even, easy steps.

"Here's your stop," he told her eventually. "Well, this is pretty much the farthest I can go. I don't really belong on this floor anyway, so I'll just leave so you can do whatever you do from here. I'm sure your folks are in there… So we'll see each other around often?"

"I hope so."

Emmett gave her a consoling smile. "Good luck, Bella."

Luck – she'll really need that.

* * *

Whatever Bella expected to see beyond that bland white door was nothing like what she was seeing now.

People all over. Telephones ringing off the hook. Angry orders and shuffles of paper.

Wasn't it only nine o'clock in the morning?

Bella nearly jumped out of her skin when a severe-looking woman with thick, curly brown hair suddenly came to stand in front of her.

"Name," the woman ordered. Her tone suggested that she felt Bella wasn't worth her time.

"Isabella Swan," Bella replied automatically. "Could you please tell me where –?"

She held up a hand, and Bella immediately quieted. "You're Chelsea's, right? Her department is on the top floor – wait, what did you say your name was?"

"Isabella Swan," she answered, confused, "And I'm Mr. Hansen's, actually."

By then, unfriendly brown eyes had become stony, her lips slowly quirking downward. The woman observed Bella with what looked like apprehension and disapproval. Bella had no idea what to do.

"Eleazar," she called tonelessly, eyes never averting from Bella Swan. "She's here."

At that, the curious – and even _envious _– eyes of every single person in the room landed onto Bella.

"Take her to her desk," a distant male voice yelled back.

"I have my own desk?" Bella repeated, stunned.

"It so happens," the woman muttered, turning and walking away briskly.

Bella had to concentrate on her footing to keep up. She felt drained already – this woman was overly rude.

"Phone, chair, file, notepad," she recited when they reached the other corner of the spacious room. And with that, she was gone. Bella, standing and hovering like an idiot, was left dumfounded and completely lost.

"Don't mind her," someone told her.

The first thing Bella noticed about the speaker was his suit. She was no fashion genius, but she decided that if she could notice the weirdness, everyone else probably did too. It was just another business suit but somehow very outmoded, especially with the funky tie, awkward sleeve length, cheap fabric, and baggy fit. Still, the style defined him completely; he was an exceptionally tall and skinny man, with oily hair, narrow eyes, and rather poor complexion.

"Her name's Jessica Stanley," he whispered lowly, his button-hole-like eyes widening as if he was sharing a secret. "She's the evil monster of this place."

"I guess I know where she got that from…" Bella took notice of the heavy packets of files and paperwork balancing dangerously on the man's hands. "Oh, sorry, let me help you."

"Thanks." He grinned, showing both rows of his crooked teeth. "I'm Eric Yorkie, the CCO's third assistant. We'll see each other from time to time."

"CCO?"

"Chief Communications Officer, Heidi Lennox – have you heard of her?"

"Oh." Bella blinked. "I'm –"

"Isabella Swan. New college intern. Demetri's. Right?"

It was unnerving that he had a background check on her, but Bella decided to not question it. After all, this friendly Asian man was no doubt the overly helpful, geeky, chess-club type. She had a feeling she'd get along with him pretty well.

"I'd prefer Bella," she told him, smiling shyly.

Eric opened his mouth to say something but someone interrupted.

"You may go back to Jessica, Eric. Thank you."

"Oh, sorry, Eleazar," Eric answered with a nervous laugh. With a tight smile, he took back the stack of paper from Bella's hands and departed silently.

"That boy…" Eleazar sighed. Then he turned his attention to the girl, and his eyes suddenly had the odd faraway look. Whatever he was thinking about, Bella could tell he didn't like it.

"Hello, sir. It's nice to meet you," she replied, anxious.

"Eleazar Sanchez," he tossed back. His voice had a slight touch of a Spanish accent. "Head of this part of personnel and second-in-command in Marketing."

After that, awkward silence pervaded between them. To be frank, it was solely Eleazar Sanchez who was making it so. The hazel in his eyes was dark as he gazed into her muddy ones, and if that wasn't the indication that something was bothering him, his upturned lips were. Besides, wasn't he supposed to offer her a handshake or something?

_If he would just stop looking at me like that…_ The creepy look made Bella squirm, and she was beginning to imagine that something was on her face.

"Your job is simple," he finally said, and Bella let out a breath of relief. "There's not going to be a heavy load of serious work for you. What you _will_ be expected to do, however, is helping these fellows get that serious work done. You will be the one running the errands, filing papers, typing up reports, taking notes, listening, and learning. Understood?"

Bella gave a hasty nod.

Eleazar Sanchez cocked his head to the side condescendingly. "And according to the orders from the upper authority, they want you closely around Mr. Hansen. I'm not sure if this is God's chance or the Devil's trap for you, but that won't be my problem…"

She gulped. She felt like she was having a heart failure.

"Do you know anything about him?"

"Uh, nothing except for the fact that he's the Chief Marketing Officer."

Then he snorted – he _snorted at her._ "Sure. Now get rid of that coat and follow me. You have to please the man."

* * *

"That went well," Eleazar sighed aloud, closing the door behind them quietly.

Did it really? Bella couldn't remember much of the short encounter with the CMO of Masen Corporations. One part of her mind had been dead while the other maniacal; she wasn't even sure of what she said… or _did _she say anything? One of the little things she _did_ remember, though, was Demetri Hansen's smile. Unlike other things, that minute detail was very fresh in her memory; in fact, she was sure it _will_ stay fresh for a very long time. It was so handsome – Bella had to admit he was a very good-looking man – and yet disgustingly cold, practiced, and formal.

With that, she also remembered the amused gaze he had behind his spectacles as he read off a piece of paper, "Your credentials seem acceptable – slow typing speed, but that shouldn't interfere too much with what you're here for…" That had really sent Bella blushing. Oh, and he also said, "Speak only when you're spoken to," when she went on and asked him a question.

"Hello, Jane."

Bella snapped out of her dazed reverie, and found herself face-to-face to a small woman – shorter than Alice, surprisingly – with beautifully cropped hair and chilling charisma. Her sunglasses were as dark as night and covered more than half her face. It was impossible to see anything beneath those sunglasses, but Bella had the uncanny feeling that the eyes behind those lenses were staring right into hers.

"Who's this?" Jane spoke, voice sweet but sharp.

Bella began to fidget, looking at the tiled floor as if it was the most groundbreaking thing in the world.

"Isabella Swan," Eleazar mused.

That seemed enough of an explanation. "Ah, yes, Alec and Demetri mentioned her a few times…" she trailed off, smirking with the sadistic twist of the mouth. "Quite a disappointment."

Eleazar, squaring his shoulders, gazed at Jane with blank, unfocused eyes… "Well, Jane, I'll see you around."

"Will hope so." Jane let out an imperceptible snort and slinked away.

"Jane Lambert, Chief Strategy Officer. It's amazing how such a small woman can have an ego hundred times her size." Eleazar was scowling to himself by the time he reached the last word. "Though I'm sure you knew that. You'd know better than me anyway."

"I do?" Bella asked rhetorically.

He snorted at her again. He wasn't planning to do more of that the rest of the day, was he?

"I don't understand," Bella murmured, weighing the heaviness of the air around them. She had to tread watchfully – purposefully but also politely and professionally. "I'm not acquainted to any of them – to Mr. Hansen or… her."

Rolling his eyes, Eleazar held a silver card against the sensor, and the glass doors flew open. "Remind me to get you this worker ID." After a few moments, he spoke again, "Of course you don't know them personally – yet."

"I think you're mistaken –"

"What did you expect?" the man interjected. His demeanor, though it had never been polite, was now completely chilling. "You didn't think you could be one of them one day and not be it the next. Once a Volturi, you're a Volturi for life. Don't be innocent with me. We all know."

The words hit her square in the stomach, and she became truly frightened. "But I'm not with this _Volturi_, or however you pronounce it," Bella said quickly, trying to find the right words. "I'm just a normal student – a normal college intern."

Her words were worse than inadequate, but thankfully, they made enough impact that Eleazar Sanchez's scowl slowly turned from scathing to speculative.

Bella, desperate to stumble into her boss's good graces, tossed in, "I haven't heard of it until today, actually."

Hazel eyes wandered aimlessly from Bella's head to toe – reevaluating, it seemed. Recognition flickered in his stunned expression, really seeing for the first time since they met – the rumpled appearance and the face of a young, kind girl… the look of a normal college intern as she had called herself.

"I should have known better than to believe those rumors." He seemed to say to himself only. He then cleared his throat and said in a louder voice, "But it's always nice to be caught off guard."

Relief washed over Bella instantly, and she smiled.

For a second, Eleazar seemed hesitant, but he resorted to say, "The Volturi is a family name, by the way."

Whatever it was that he saw in her during that enlightening moment, Bella didn't know. However, it certainly turned her boss from a sour man to an amicable one.

* * *

Bella Swan had accomplished in winning her boss over earlier that morning. She was feeling pretty good about herself… until she stepped back into the Marketing Department and began to work.

All morning, all Bella did was roaming around, handling errands. No, she didn't have problems with taking orders, but brewing coffee and delivering dry-cleaning weren't exactly the tasks she had in mind. Not to mention, she was beginning to feel her feet swelling up in the confines of her shoes and the blisters forming on her toes.

By midmorning, she had given up on complaining altogether, even though she had no one to actually complain to. But, she would glimpse at "her desk" and would feel miserable all over again – it was _hers_, and yet she never once got the chance to sit on it. What was the point of getting recommendations from her professors when all she was required to do was stapling papers?

"Is my caffeine still not here yet?" Jessica asked her coworkers, sounding more displeased than angry. "Has she gone to the other side of the country to get it or something?"

"Right here," Bella mumbled as she handed over the cup.

In response, the irritated second assistant of Heidi Lennox gave a short but stern look before stalking back toward the Communications Department.

"Not even bothering with a thank you," Bella muttered, sighing as she fingered her blouse that had turned into something that resembled a version of a rag from the sprinkling rain outside.

"Bella, sweetheart, I'm desperate." One of male workers appeared to her side, and he swooshed by in an urgent trot as he fixed his tie. "Could you deliver the floppy disk on my desk to Yorkie for me? I have a meeting in two minutes."

Before Bella had the time to reply, he had already disappeared down the hall – not that she had the power to reject orders…

_This isn't what I wanted, _Bella lamented, sluggishly skidding toward the neighboring department for the thousandth time. She had to constantly remind herself that she was just working her way up corporate ladder – gain experience with an internship, get a university diploma, possibly aim for a Master's degree, get a decent job… She was only an intern today, but would become a respected secretary tomorrow. She would start simple, but have a big finish.

"Is it just me, or does it seem like Isabella Swan is not one of them?"

Bella's heart seemed to stop beating altogether. She froze mid-step, her deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes glued onto the partially opened door of the worker's lounge. _Me? They're talking about _me_?_

"Well, she _seems_ like a sweet girl," the other woman admitted. "You never know though."

"That's true – look at Corin! Anyhow, even if she's not one of them, she's still lucky… I wonder what Demetri plans to do with her, though. I mean, I wouldn't exactly call her a _prodigy_."

"She's from University of Washington, isn't she? Kind of caught me off guard at first." The second woman's voice shrunk to a whisper. "Besides, I heard it's actually Aro himself, not Demetri."

"What? No way!"

"Don't ask me!"

The first one sighed. "Lucky her. She's got her whole life planned out, all perfectly well-crafted."

"Oh, please. I actually think it'll be a depressing life," the other mused. "Would you, for example, want to marry someone you have no interest in? Heidi and Demetri don't look like a happy couple, if you know what I'm talking about…"

"At least they look like the winners of the genetic lottery together."

The two laughed together. "Oh, speaking of marriage, the King family is going to marry off…"

By then, the topic had drifted off from her, which was something Bella was grateful for. Still, it would have been better if they weren't talking about her in the first place.

What kind of stories were going around about her? _Why _were these ridiculous stories going around when they weren't even true? _How _did people come up with them? And most of all, why was it her? What did these stories mean? Was it about the Volturi again? What exactly was the Volturi anyway?

"Hola, Bella!"

Her head snapped toward the voice, and she realized that she had reached the right wing of the Communications Department, the detached room where Heidi Lennox's assistants worked separated from the rest of the other workers.

"Sup?" Eric, thankfully, didn't seem to notice Bella's peculiar behavior.

Remembering what she was here for, she passed the disk across the desk to him.

"Ah, thanks, just when I needed it…" He inserted it into the computer and began typing away.

Reluctant to go back, she slumped against the edge of Eric's desk.

"Ooh, slacking off already? Don't tell me that you're tired! We still have the whole afternoon ahead of us!"

She didn't have the energy to match his constantly chipper mood. "_Discouraged_ would be a better choice of word."

Eric smirked knowingly. "Let me guess… Eleazar and Jessica?"

Pursing her lips, Bella shot a glance at the side of the marble room where Jessica's desk was left unoccupied.

"I knew it." He began laughing, and Bella shrugged. "That girl's a piece of work."

"Yeah, you were right earlier," Bella admitted.

"About what – her addiction to caffeine or the hidden monster within?"

"Both." Bella chuckled. "The coffee she has now is her fifth fix… I _think_. Well, that and it seems to be that she really, really hates me."

Suddenly, Eric had a weird, distorted look on his face. "Yeah…" he trailed off before muttering, "Since you're better off than she is from her point of view."

Bella raised one eyebrow.

He let out a squeaky laugh. "Anyway, she's just another ambitious girl; don't let her get to you. Her stinginess and grousing habit is her defense mechanism sort of thing… at least that's what I try to force myself to believe anyway."

She would have laughed at that, except – "Eric, seriously, what's going on here? I feel like I'm in high school all over again. I know for a fact that I'm not a paranoid person, and yet, for a few times already, I see people acting weird around me. On the way here, I actually heard two people talking about me."

"They're not – for lack of a better word – _gossiping._"

"Oh?" Bella didn't overlook the fact that he basically agreed that they certainly _were_ gossiping about her. _Something is definitely up, _she thought in dismay.

He grinned widely with all his teeth, not saying another word. At this, Bella, resigned, rolled her eyes, and after brushing off her blouse, she rose and began to head her way back.

"See you in a minute, Bella," he teased.

"Yeah," she replied with a sigh, "bye."

* * *

Every fairytale known to mankind ended with a happily ever after. Rosalie knew, however, that reality on the other hand always ended with a broken heart.

She stared blankly beyond the glassed doors of the building, the snow falling heavily.

Rosalie hadn't heard from Edward for some time, and she was stupidly just realizing that he probably meant to never see her again – or, at the least, not for another great length of time. She still remembered how frail he looked with a body so grossly withered and a pair of eyes more dead than a dead man. He wouldn't tell her what he was up to or what he had been doing for the past few years. She didn't even know if he passed the nights resting in a warm bed or wandering in the cold streets, or if he ate three meals three times a day or simply resorted to starve himself. Now she thought of it, the jacket he had on looked barely durable to fight the snowstorms in Seattle…

She _missed_ him.

It pained her to embrace the fact that the best she could do for him was to wait, pray, and worry. He and her lives have been – and still were – miserable. They belonged together more so than anyone else in the whole world did, the reasons uncountable. The two only had each other to rely on – in their friendship and love – but there were just too many forces that worked against them. People around them in the secular world were one, and Fate, unfortunately, was another. If only things didn't change so drastically, they would have been together, living great lives other people would have been jealous of. If they had been fortunate, they would have been so happy…

Regardless, she also knew she couldn't blame everything on the misfortunate turn of events. Partially – if not more – it was her fault too. She could've done _something _to alleviate this. Instead of hiding in the shadows and being the helpless crybaby, she could've been that ball of positive energy, the mentally mature woman who knew how to support the lost man, the sturdy center of a circle, and the confident person who knew how to stand up for her own good. There were so many things she could have been. Now, she was everything else the things she would have loved to be weren't: nonexistent, forgettable, inconvenient, needy, and lost – oh, so lost…

Rosalie didn't know what she had to do in the future or what she had to do _now,_ how she had to do it… Every day, she would look back to those happy days and yearn for them, worthlessly complaining about the present and daydreaming about the impossible future.

"How are you feeling, Rose?"

She looked up to see Emmett, concern written all over his face. "I feel fine."

He took in a big breath. "Well, in that case… do you want to grab something to eat? It's lunch time."

Resting her face on the crest of her hand, she let her eyes get lost in the sea of workers weaving through each other, hurrying to get their lunches. "No thank you. I'm not hungry."

"You should eat," he asserted calmly. "I can get you a take-out?"

"No thank you," she replied again, unmoved.

Through her side view, she saw Emmett McCarty opening then closing his mouth before walking away. Sometimes – though she would never in a million years admit this aloud – she respected that boy. Rosalie had heard many things about him – all good things. Although she knew not all the words going around were factual, with the information she had collected about him, he was decidedly a good boy. He lost both of his parents his last year in high school, and consequently dropped out. However, he resorted to find his own living in his way. He also seemed to have precise goals and plans for his life, working as the security guard here in this company being the first step of the entire process. An entire year younger than she, and yet he knew where his final destination was and how to get there – he knew where he wanted to be by the time he would take his last breath.

Damn it. How would she find the final chord that would resolve _her_?

Rosalie would have to find a way – quickly. Although she didn't realize it, she wasn't in the position to worry about Edward, for she was trapped in the similar purgatory herself. By staying mute and not speaking up, it had become her habit to suppress her desires and take orders of others no matter how reluctant she was. Submissive and hopeless, she had given up all her possessions for them because they wanted her to – forced her to. For years and years, she had watched them twist around her, all with different favors to ask of her – money, reputation, and beauty. And so she had given them every last bit – the things they thought they wanted to have – without leaving a single thing for her own being. Even when the thunder growled and the lightning stroke, she had shushed herself, saying there was nothing to fear. Now, everything was a disaster. Her identity was robbed, and only the pretty but empty trove was laid out bare for the world to see. Even today, they asked for something greater, but what was she to do when there was not even a worthless grain of sand left?

The result? To begin with, once, when she used to have everything a woman could ask for – beauty, wealth, respect for herself and from others around her, and family – she felt she wasn't good enough. She now realized what a silly, shallow, thoughtless girl she had been back then, when today she had nothing to offer but the shell that was left. Rosalie had lost her voice, and she needed to find it forthwith.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here…"

Rosalie stiffened. She looked up to see the three people she hated the most after her stepfather.

"Poor thing! Still working as the mailperson for your own dad's company?"Makenna goaded.

"Seems like she is," Bree remarked, staring pointedly at the rucksack of mails besides Rosalie's feet.

Rosalie flushed red – not with anger but with embarrassment – and imperceptibly moved her chair over so it hid her bag of mails.

"Oh, no," Victoria burst out sweetly, eyes innocently big. Then she smirked, adding, "How pathetic."

"Girls," someone cut off. It was Garrett, Rosalie noted with relief. He sent her a sympathizing glance as he patted her hair like a father would do to his daughter. "It would be best if you leave. I've had enough of loitering from you three over the last several _weeks_."

Victoria rolled her eyes. "Please, Garrett, I know all too well that you don't take your job seriously."

"I don't think you're in the position to say that because let's face it: you don't even have a job," he answered coolly.

"I'm actually a first-year university student – unlike poor Rosalie here," Victoria tossed back, unfazed, as she stared straight at Rosalie, who shriveled in response. "Besides, I won't need a job for the rest of my life."

Fortunately, Garrett was still headstrong. "I see, so you're telling me that you're not going to get a job because your family can pay you off for the rest of your life, right? Well, speaking of your family, Victoria, I recently heard that your father had to make a call to whatever university you attend now, because you were initially rejected. Besides, the girl you overly enjoy to make fun of –" he side-glanced at the blond girl who was now beginning to lighten up "– may not be in the lucky conditions like you and your little friends to attend college and goof around with the family money, but she works hard anyway within the limitations she has." Garrett gave all three girls a meaningful look. "Please don't undervalue that."

By the end of the speech, Rosalie was smiling and sniffling a little, while Victoria… well, she could look better.

"Wait till my father hears about this," Makenna hissed.

"I certainly can't wait," Garrett replied stiffly.

That was when Bree nudged Victoria in the rib and whispered, "Vicky, there's Royce."

At that, Victoria recovered quickly. Her stare was pointedly on Rosalie as she said the next words, "I've been hearing that Royce's father wishes to wed his son off soon. But the Kings haven't decided on the _'who' _part,I believe_…_"

Rosalie's fists tightened on her knees.

Cocking her head, Victoria continued, "And I'm going to make sure it's going to be _me_."

"Let's go," Bree urged. "He's going to get on the elevator!"

"See you two later," Victoria sang, flouncing away.

"Ciao," Makenna taunted, obviously pleased that Rosalie seemed so angry, as she tugged Bree along toward the direction Victoria took – to Royce King.

"Why would she…?" Garrett trailed off, brows knitted together in confusion. Then he saw Rosalie's teary eyes… and groaned as he figured out the answer himself. "No, Rose…"

"I'm going to go out for a minute," she announced as steadily as she could, rising from her seat and getting her jacket on without lifting her face to hide the jealous tears.

"But your father specifically told me –"

"I know what he said." _Leave her behind the desk and make sure she stays there. The girl needs some restrictions when she's in my property. _"I won't be long. I promise you won't get into any trouble even if he does find out."

"It's not that –"

Rosalie had already dashed off, leaving Garrett alone. When the winter flakes hit her face, she broke out into a fast walk, sniffling and sobbing with her head ducked. She knew that life wasn't fair since a long time ago, but every time something happened to prove that once more, it hit her as hard as it had the first time.

It was unfair that her stepfather forbade her to attend college when she was smart enough to do so; that she had nothing better to do but to spend all day in the lobby of his company like a child waiting to get picked up from daycare; that Victoria and her friends had all the legit reasons in the world to downplay her; that she could never be good enough to become Rosalie King…

It was unfair she had to lose her _real_ father, her mother, and now, her Edward.

Even in the horrible weather, people paused to give a speculative look at Rosalie, some worried, some simply surprised to see someone crying in the middle of the street. She didn't mind, though, because she was tired of acting strong. Because she knew – she knew that everyone was just like her – they all smiled, laughed, and hid their scars. But deep inside, they all wanted someone – anyone – to recognize and discover the pain within. They were all hungry for comfort.

Why couldn't she live her own fairytale? Why did God have to take it away from her when she had it in the first place? In her dreams, she was supposed to have gone to college. In her dreams, she was supposed to marry someone she loved. In her dreams, she was supposed to live happily ever after. No, they weren't supposed to be so unfair like this.

Things were never like this in her dreams.

* * *

The branches were barren and black against the white grey sky. Clumps of snow, remnants of last night's snowstorm, fell from the branches and marred the glistening ground. Edward tipped his head back, drawing in a deep breath of the crisp winter air. It burned in his lungs, and he closed his eyes, tugging on the collar of the charcoal coat Alice had given him.

Edward shrugged as he jingled his eyes, making his way down the streets. The sky was uncommonly clear, untouched by the clouds. He glanced over his shoulder, and spotted a homeless man dressed in pathos poor clothes and bundled up in sheets of newspapers.

Wordlessly, Edward dug out a couple of quarters from his pocket and dropped them into the broken bowl. The coins slinked down onto it, and the poor man looked up at the sound, his eyes stunned but grateful. Edward avoided the gaze, feeling shy, and moved abruptly to get going again. It was one of those unfixable habits of his – dropping change for the homeless.

The day was especially cold, but he chose to come outside anyway. He felt that a draft of fresh – and cold – air would be a clever form of relief from all the stress and impatience riled up inside of him. And he was feeling especially stressed and impatient today because she promised she would call him to share the news… the news he was more than eager to hear… the news about his father's whereabouts. With his phone in hand, he traversed his hometown. He walked and walked and walked endlessly.

Yes, he was walking. It seemed to be that his feet were the only part of him that didn't feel so helpless.

The only time he stopped at a certain spot for longer than a minute was when he came across a local ice cream store – no, _the _ice cream store. At first, he couldn't believe it was still here, after all those years; the last time he had come was the day his father had disappeared. The colorful sign – so bright it hurt the onlooker's eyes – stood out in the seas of dreary gray more than ever, and the entire setting and the tender mood made it as welcoming as it always had been.

Edward stepped closer to the glass wall and inspected the people inside. He saw the interior overflowing with smiling and laughing children – he used to be one of them when he was about their age. A smile graced his own lips, not a painful one but not a happy one either, as he saw one particular young boy finally getting his hands on the cone of his vanilla ice cream. Edward even chuckled as he watched the boy's mother rolling his eyes because his own father had done that when he too had wanted a scoop of ice cream in the middle of January. Was that little boy's mom making that face for the same reason? Maybe.

He quickly decided he would come back just for the sake of it. Funnily, reliving _this _memory, which was one of very few he deeply treasured, wasn't so bad. In fact, he _wanted _to be here again because it felt as if his psyche yearned for it.

_Shit,_ he then thought._ I really have to stop doing this. I'm getting sentimental over an _ice cream.

Ring. Ring.

Ring. Ring.

His phone.

"Hello?" Edward answered breathlessly, his heart pumping at top speed as he waited for an answer. All the answer he got was a sigh, and his shoulders fell. He tried to conceal the disappointment, but failed. "I see."

There was a pause. "I'm concentrating on the districts near that café right now…"

"Is it possible?" Edward murmured.

"I have an idea. I'll tell you soon." She paused again, but the silence was much more comfortable than the previous one. "It's a surprise."

At that, Edward snorted, and smiled sincerely. "I can't wait."

"I bet," the response came sarcastically. "Patience, Edward. Just little bit more time."

She was right. He had been waiting for years. He could wait a bit longer. It won't kill him. "Right, call me soon."

"I will," she retorted cryptically before hanging up.

Edward could wait. He knew he had no choice. He _must_. If patience was what it took to find Edward Sr., Edward could be the most patient person in the world. He would do it. What he was truly worried about, though, was that there was the possibility that he would never find him, regardless of the amount of patience. Edward needed answers, and he was certain his father had them all. But if he should fail to find the man…

Edward shuddered at the thought, and dismissed it immediately. Eventually, he was about two blocks away from the ice cream store where he had picked up his phone. And suddenly, he got an uncomfortable feeling, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. _No, not from the cold… definitely not from the cold…_

He slowed down to a complete stop, and twisted his neck around to peer over his shoulders one at a time, scanning the buildings, the people, and the city.

Something caught his eye.

His eyes widened.

Not so far away, there were five familiar-looking – but not welcomed – men in dark suits. Edward's lips went dry, and he hastily but calmly put on the hood of his sweater and let it cover his eyes. Quietly, he tried to minimize himself and – fuck, too late. One had already caught the sight of the suspicious tall male.

_No_. They were going to get the head start.

The next few seconds were thoughtless, hectic, and abrupt. Coming down to one knee, Edward promptly tightened his shoelaces, and as he stood back up, he pulled his sleeves up to his elbows. Edward gritted his teeth in nervous anticipation. They were dangerous men – they could kill him with just one right touch on his pulse point. He only had a couple of seconds to spare.

_On your marks._

Adrenaline was already beginning to run in his veins.

_Get ready._

At this rate, his heart could break his rib bones. Thump. Thump. Thump.

_Set._

His eyes narrowed.

_Go._

They burst into a run.

Edward Masen? He burst into a flight.

* * *

_What a day, _Bella thought in a daze as the cold evening air fanned her face.

She could see the setting sun, and the people beneath it were hurrying to return home. Bella, too, was dying to get home too. Her feet were tired, and so were her shoulders, back, and mind. What she needed was a warm cup of coffee, a good book, a bath, and a long sleep.

What she did today wasn't what she had expected – no, not at all. But, she did feel like she learned something from the first day alone. It was interesting to be around different people and work with them. Although a few acted strangely around her – Bella blamed it on the gossip – she knew she had a lot of time ahead of her, and she would just have to fix it. She would have to find out the story behind the gossip too. But excluding those people, the rest were quite complaisant and respectful to her; they didn't treat her like an irritable college intern, but like just another fellow coworker.

Jessica Stanley was another problem, though unique compared to her other concerns. On this matter, it was entirely Bella's fault. Upon delivering yet another drink of coffee, she accidentally floundered on her steps and toppled the hot liquid over Jessica's working area.

Everything turned into a mess – not just the desk, but Jessica's already wildly curly hair as well from pulling it over and over again in her distress. When Bella blushed red from head to toe, at lost at what to do, Eric Yorkie was bold enough to laugh. And for that, he too had to face Jessica's fury.

Essentially, what Bella accomplished on her first day at work was that she had managed to release the wrath of the evil monster. Initially, the woman had unreasonable hatred for her, but now, it had become a legitimate one because Bella gave her that reason.

As if the sky was reflecting Bella's mood, it turned murkier and cloudier. The sun repeatedly hid behind the film of clouds before reappearing, and eventually, it began to snow. Before she knew it, the snow turned into sloshing rain.

"Perfect," Bella muttered at the sky. Her heels clacked on the cement as she scurried away, the sound blending in with the incessant drone of rain that plunged off from the sky like pebbles off the skyscraper. With each step, a fast-forming puddle of water drenched her denim, staining it to black.

Soon, Bella was fuming. Did _everything _have to go wrong today? Holding up her bag above her head in feeble attempt to shield herself against the downpour, she lamented on how she decided not to bring an umbrella with her. How stupid. This was Seattle, for crying out loud.

A taxi sped down the road, spraying mud onto her, and she screeched in surprise. A moment later, she resorted to run to the nearby shop with a roof, professing defeat to the weather because she was certain the sloshing rain wasn't going to stop any time soon. Luckily, she wasn't too soaked, but it was still cold.

_I probably look like a stray cat, shaking like this, _she thought to herself. Oh, she could only guess what happened to her make-up… _Wait, never mind, I probably look like a mutated panda. Hah._

Suddenly, an old man with a big umbrella passed by her, and the steam rising from the warm coffee in his hand caught her eye.

_Oh, coffee! _Bella began her desperate search for the familiar circular green sign, tiptoeing and craning her neck. When she located it, she only had a millisecond of contemplation before dashing toward it. She deserved a drink, right?

* * *

When she entered the coffee shop, she slowed to a walk. Bella Swan was determined to take time nursing her coffee until the rain stopped for no better reason that even though everything else wasn't necessarily going the way she desired, at least she'd have the warm drink.

The line was long, the place much more crowded than usual. In her place in the waiting line, Bella attempted to smooth out her hair. To no avail, it messed up even more and she simply decided to throw it back into a bun again.

"Black coffee, please," Bella said when it was her turn.

The worker, a girl around her age with a snobby impatient look on her face, punched a few keys on the register before bringing the drink. She set it on the counter with the receipt – the cost was four dollars and ninety-five cents.

Opening up her wallet, Bella pulled out three one's. Sending an apologetic smile to the cashier, who now looked bored, she unzipped the change compartment.

No quarters.

Staring at it in disbelief, Bella hurriedly dumped the small amount of change on the counter and began to count.

"Hey," the worker sighed, "there are people waiting behind you. Could you hurry up?"

Bella Swan would have gotten peeved, except she was then done with the math and had ended up with the grand total of three dollars and eighty cents.

_Uh oh, _she thought. The worker didn't look happy, and neither did Bella. She couldn't do anything but stare at her pathetic sheaf of money.

"Anything else?" the worker snapped.

"Yes," a voice interrupted, and Bella jumped. A ten-dollar-bill came into Bella's side view. "A Cappuccino."

"Oh, of course! I'll be right back with your order," the worker said with a broad smile before returning to the coffee machines.

Bella could not be more embarrassed.

"You don't have to do that," she mumbled, refusing to turn around because she wanted to hide the blush.

"I know."

Before Bella got the chance to answer, the drink was set down next to hers and the change was given back. Resigned but still embarrassed, she murmured a genuine thank you.

Pause. "Welcome," mumbled back the stranger.

Bella was surprised when his hands reached out and took both drinks. She stared curiously at the back of the man walking toward the back of the shop. After a moment of contemplation, she followed him.

He sat down at a table located in the far corner, where the wall it was against was the opposite side from the windows. Although he didn't make any gesture for Bella to take the second seat, self-concluding that she was permitted because her coffee was placed there, she sat down.

She couldn't see any part his face. It was a wonder how he managed to conceal himself as thoroughly as that. All that was revealed to her was the shadow of his profile because he was looking over to the side at the windows, hood obscuring more than half of his face, as he appeared to deliberately check for something.

The silence, in the noisy room, was unbearable. She scrutinized all of his actions attentively – chewing on his nails, tapping his foot, frequently ducking and hiding, flinching – and decided that he was extremely nervous.

"Thanks again," Bella mumbled more cautiously this time, as she took the first sip of her almost-forgotten coffee.

"Don't mention it."

Inconspicuously, Bella leaned forward and tried to look up to see his entire face. In reaction, he slinked away, tucking his chin in and masking his mouth with the back of his hand, but she still saw –… Her heart raced. Wasn't he –?

"Edward Masen?" she whispered in disbelief.

"Shh," he insisted in a hushed but fierce tone. Although his face was still covered, the shift of his posture displayed his desperation, anxiety, and annoyance. Somehow, Bella knew he was staring – in fact, glaring – straight at her.

"You're…" Bella stared blankly before swallowing. "What are you doing… _here_?"

At that, Edward Masen sucked in a big, long breath, clearly displeased. He roughly threw off his hood – at last – and locked eyes with hers. At the eye-contact, she was reminded all over again of why she felt so attached to him. The juxtaposition he showed – the stubborn face versus the vulnerable eyes – made her heart ache.

His eyes never left hers as he bit off, "What does it look like I'm doing?"

_You look like you're running away from your personal demons, _she thought. _You look scared to death._

"Um," Bella stuttered uselessly, unable to form words from her thoughts – that, and because she knew her assumption could sound offensive. Her eyes flew down to her drink. "Why did you pay for me?"

For a moment, Bella thought the glaciers in his taken-aback eyes vanished, but not even a second later, they were back – only this time, even colder. "That's none of your business," he stammered – yes, _stammered_. "I had no choice." Pause. His gaze averted to somewhere else as he distractedly fumbled with his tangled hair. "It was not because of you. It was for my own good."

Bella's mouth dropped open slightly, dumbfounded. "… For your own –"

"Yes, for my own good," he cut her off, causing her to recoil. He began talking faster – could it be that he was flustered? "Besides, you were obviously broke, and I didn't have the patience to wait longer in the line."

Bella should feel offended, but wasn't. After all, she knew she didn't know how to act or talk around him; every time she tried to talk to him, she seemed to get the words wrong. "Well."

The eyes of the fallen angel flashed to hers, alert. "What?"

She was surprised at the harsh reaction she got. "Nothing."

His eyes narrowed at her. They were same as ever – dark but lit, angry but sad, confusing but expressive… And as cliché as it sounded, they were as deep as the oceans and shone as brightly as the stars. Bella, recalling a distant memory, had once heard from her mother. She had been told that if a person had unusually bright eyes, it was because his or her energy – spirit – was concentrated there…

Then she noticed something. "Did you get contacts?"

Either time had frozen, or he was sitting perfectly still with a deadpanned expression on his face. Then out of the blue, he smirked. "What did you say?"

"I mean," Bella began to explain, flustered that she had blurted that out, as she attempted to avoid the unnerving eye-contact, "Your eyes were green the last time I saw you, and now, they're this golden brown…"

"Yeah, I know," he answered, voice controlled and soft. Bella didn't miss how he smoothly threw his hood back on, intentionally and effectively cutting off their eye-contact. "It's the fluorescents."

_Right, _Bella thought humorlessly.

There was another period of silence, but somehow, this one felt longer and heavier. She even felt herself sweating at the nape of the neck. She simply couldn't believe she was having this conversation. With him. Here.

"Not again," Edward suddenly muttered. His voice had a bitter edge.

Bella watched in her stupor as he picked up his coffee and stood up in a brusque manner, scraping the chair back with a screech.

He was staring down at her, standing motionlessly. "Come."

She bolted up from her chair in surprise more than in submission to his order.

He stepped further into the shadows of the room, eyes casted downward. Bella, on the other hand, hovered inefficiently.

"Follow me. Quickly," he ordered curtly. He swept her coffee from the table as well, and headed indirectly toward the exit door by circling the room. Confused but not questioning, she followed his example.

"Here's your drink," he told her the moment they were outside. "You can leave now."

_That's it? Just like that? _"Okay," she replied inadequately.

He sighed loudly, shoulders visibly rising and falling. "Which way are you heading?"

"Um, just down that street over there."

His lips thinned. _He must be frowning, _Bella guessed.

"I guess that's okay," he sighed.

Bella raised an eyebrow, but he was looking away. No, actually, he had stopped dead, eyes focusing somewhere behind her. He fixed his hood so it was more secure than before – if that was possible.

She was more than confused by his cryptic behavior. In his spot, he turned around too casually and stepped away from the roof, not minding the rain. She thought he was going to leave, but then he hesitated and pirouetted so he was back to facing her. For one moment, he stood there, just watching her. Bella saw his mouth opening and closing, but in the end, he merely settled on jerking his head in gesture for her to follow him.

"What's wrong?" Bella whispered. After a quick glance behind, she submissively hurried after him – with her bag above her head again – without thinking.

"Nothing," he answered without turning around.

_What a typical response, _Bella thought to herself. "What are you running away from?"

This stopped him. He flicked one stiff look over his shoulder before speeding up. "I'm not running away from anything," he clarified sharply. "This is just –"

Once more, he stopped dead. Bella, who had been trying to catch up to his speed, confronted his back and tumbled over him at the sudden halt – a version of a déjà vu that night at Alice's boutique. Interestingly, he didn't flinch away like last time, too busy staring at –…

Bella wanted to see what Edward Masen was intensely observing, but not a chance. Because out of the blue, without her permission, he tore her cup of coffee away from her hands before dumping it into the nearby trashcan with his. Bella witnessed all this in shock. Although he might have finished his drink, she had been nowhere close to done.

"What in the world…" It was the first time she was truly angry at him. "Why would you –?"

He shut her up by placing the back of his hand over her mouth. "How many more times do I have to tell you to stay quiet? Or is it just in your nature to not do as you are told?"

Bella heard the implication of his words. He wasn't just talking about her "not staying quiet" – it was much more.

"Yes –" Her eyes widened, realizing what she had said. "No, I meant, no! _No_!"

Suddenly, Edward Masen stepped forward – a step closer to Bella – and she unconsciously took a step back. As she did so, one tip of his lips went up into a small smirk, but he hurriedly concealed it. Unperturbed, he carefully yet effectively buttoned up her coat all the way up to her chin and fixed the collars on her neck. After a moment of hesitation, his hand reached to the back of her head to her haphazard bun. There, he tugged the bun so it fell down to her shoulders. She was amazed at his gentle touch.

"Cover your face," he requested as he handed over her the hair tie. He began fumbling with his own clothes.

Her heart was beyond beating quickly – the sound was nearly a hum."You have to tell me what's going on, or –"

"It's not safe here," was his simple yet vague answer.

That caught her off guard. "So you're just going to _leave_?"

"No, of course not."

She let out a subdued yelp as he unexpectedly took her hand in his – it was much warmer than the last time they made the contact. Startled, she looked up, and at this proximity, she saw the piercing gaze he had on her, as if he was trying to figure her out. It was ironic – it was _she_ who was trying to figure _him_ out.

"We are," he finished flatly.

It was that moment Edward broke out into a mad sprint, tugging Bella along. They ran through the downpour of rain, leaving all of time and world behind them.

* * *

_The Demon could only hope.  
He hopes that one day, he wouldn't be vile…  
That one day, he would rise… and phase into the form of an angel he always wanted to be._

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**Uh oh, what's happening now? Did I make an acceptable cliffie? Any speculations you'd like to share about Bella? Rosalie? Edward? I'd love to hear them!**  
**I know it's been a long time, but I won't give up on any of my stories – the updates are just going to come at times you least expect it!**

*** And now I present you with an official stalking resource… Twitter! Follow me SarahYoungEun, yeah? You never know what I'll tweet… Updates or sneak peeks, anyone? :D ***

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